Put On A Happy Face
by Cognitivism
Summary: Over ten years later and Santana and Brittany's lives are vastly different. When Santana goes back to Lima and McKinley High, will she be forced to watch history repeat itself or will she be able to do something about it this time?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I wish. But no. Just no.

**Author's Note(s):** Santana and Brittany are the main characters but there will be appearances from all the Glee club; particularly Rachel, Quinn and Kurt.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 1_

Almost flawless, Santana thought as she stared critically at her face in the full-length mirror. The tracksuit bottoms she had donned were different from her usual attire, but it didn't matter because the tight tank top she was wearing made her look hot. The whole look worked for her. Most looks did.

Not much had changed in ten years, Santana reflected, except for perhaps a lingering look of tiredness that she tried to ignore. It wasn't something that many people would notice anyway, so she wasn't too worried about it. It wasn't like there was anyone around who would be paying that much attention to her at any rate.

"Mama!" a voice cried from the next room.

A small smile crossed Santana's face. Okay, so many a _few_ things had changed in ten years.

"What is it, sweetie?" she called back, as she reached up and pulled her hair into a tight ponytail; something she hadn't done in a long time.

A moment later, a young blonde girl of four years, seven months and five days bounced into the room brandishing two t-shirts in front of her. She held them up to Santana and tilted her head in a way very reminiscent of her mother. Her other mother that was.

"Which one should I wear?" asked the girl.

"Which one do you want to wear?" replied Santana, watching her daughter in the mirror.

The girl looked down at the garments thoughtfully. "I like the pink but I like the ducks too."

Santana chuckled softly. She loved that Callie had inherited Brittany's adoration of ducks. Not that she'd had much of a choice. When they'd moved into their new home, Brittany had insisted that they decorate the nursery with ducks. By 'they', she had of course meant Santana. Brittany was heavily pregnant at that point and had insisted that painting fell under the category of 'strenuous activity', so she had just sat back and enjoyed watching Santana work. Not that Santana had minded of course.

"Wear the pink one with the badge of Donald Duck your mommy brought you back from Florida," said Santana.

The child's face lit up and she ran from the room. Santana turned away from the mirror and felt her smile fade a little. She walked over to the overlarge bed where her bag sat waiting for her and for the sixth time that morning, opened it to check she had everything she needed.

The phone started to ring and Santana practically dove for it. She didn't even need to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

"_Hi, Britt_," she said happily.

"_Hey, San_," said the cheerful voice on the other end. "_How's it going?_"

"_Can't complain, I guess_," said Santana reluctantly. "_The house is nice. Bigger than ours. Ours is better though._"

"_Does Callie like it?_" asked Brittany. Santana could detect a little worry behind her wife's voice.

"_Yeah. She thinks it's all a great adventure. Although she loved the flight here so much that I think she's planning to run away to the airport so she can do it again_," said Santana. "_She's looking forward to seeing your parents too. Something about going to the pond?_"

"_Yeah, I called my mom and told her to take Cal to the park," _Brittany told her. Then she added, "_I wish I could be there_." Santana felt her heart break just a little bit.

"_So do I_," she replied.

There was an awkward pause and Santana heard Brittany take a deep breath.

"_So," _she said,_ "Are you nervous?_"

"_Me? Nervous?_" said Santana with a mocking laugh. "_Of course not_."

"_San_," said Brittany in a whiney voice.

"_All right_, _maybe I'm a little nervous_," Santana admitted. "_I haven't been in Lima for more than two days in almost eleven years; let alone been to McKinley High School._"

"_You're gonna be great_," said Brittany confidently. "_Sue wouldn't have asked for you if she didn't know you were the best._"

Santana smiled. "_You're only saying that because it's true_."

Brittany laughed loudly on the other end of the phone. Usually the sound would make Santana feel fantastic about herself, but for some reason all she could feel was a twinge of sadness.

"_Okay, San_," said Brittany. "_I gotta go now. I'm supposed to be having breakfast with Britney in a few_ _minutes_."

"_Yeah, okay_," said Santana with forced cheeriness. "_Have a good day_."

"_Good luck. You're gonna be fantastic, like you always are_," said Brittany. "_Give my love to Callie and tell her I'll call her tonight._"

"_Will do_," said Santana.

"_Love you_."

"_Love you too_."

The phone was cut off and Santana let out a deep sigh. They hadn't seen each other for over a month now. Thirty-seven days to be specific, but who was counting? The point was, Santana missed Brittany. Missed her so much that it physically hurt.

When Brittany's career had taken off seven years ago, Santana had encouraged her to follow her dreams. They could live on phone calls for a while. But long weekend trips had turned into week long trips, and then that had evolved into months where Brittany would be away from home. When they had decided to have a baby, Brittany had been insistent that she would be the one to carry it, and Santana was perfectly content with that. It meant her wife would be forced to stay home and frankly, a mini Brittany would be a dream come true; and for a while it was. A year after Callie had been born, Brittany had been offered another job and once again Santana had smiled and promised that she would still be there when she got back. Right now, Brittany was touring as Britney Spears' head backup dancer and choreographer. Santana was proud of her wife for doing so well; especially after giving birth. It didn't stop Brittany's absence from leaving a painful hole in Santana's life though. They had been almost inseparable from the age of about ten and they just weren't accustomed to the separation.

Santana swallowed and her eyes came to rest on the megaphone on her bedside table. Why had she agreed to do this again? She had a job. A really good job that paid really damn well. Admittedly, it was one she could do predominantly over the phone if she wanted to; she'd built a strong enough reputation for herself now that she didn't even need to meet people in face-to-face meetings to get the job done anymore. It was fun though and she liked to make people nervous. Besides, it got her out of the house on those lonely days when Callie was in school. But really, there was no need for her to have dropped everything at the request of Sue Sylvester and go to Lima for a few weeks to coach the Cheerios.

When she thought about it, Santana was convinced it was the shock of the situation that had made her agree to such a bizarre demand. It wasn't every day one received a phone call from Hilary Clinton asking one to coach a high school cheerleading squad because Sue Sylvester was currently indisposed. Hilary had refused to give further details on why Sue wasn't available due to it being a matter of national security. It had been a most peculiar conversation.

Obviously, Santana had agreed and she had been provided with a large house on the expensive side of town to stay in for the duration of her visit. It wasn't home, but it would do.

Santana's phone rang again and she pulled a face at the name flashing up on the screen.

"_What do you want, Berry_?" said Santana once she had decided to accept the call. She had a feeling she already knew the answer though.

"_Good morning to you too, Santana_," said Rachel Berry's chipper voice. "_I just wanted to wish you luck on your new endeavour_."

She rolled her eyes. "_Is that right_?"

"_Of course_," said Rachel, sounding positively scandalised. "_Although_-" here we go "-_now that you mention it, I heard on the grapevine that somebody has bought the rights for Wicked_-"

"_Let me just stop you there, Berry_," Santana interrupted, "_You're meeting with the director and two of the producers in three weeks. I've already sent the details to your email address_."

Rachel squealed and Santana had to move the phone away from her ear until she stopped through fear of an eardrum being burst. "_You're the best, Santana_!" said Rachel giddily.

"_Tell me something I don't know_," said Santana, feeling just a little pleased with herself. She decided against telling Rachel how difficult it had been to set up that meeting. The director had wanted Idina Menzel to play Elphaba but Santana had, after some sly and unjustified comments on Menzel's age and some less than subtle threats and scare mongering, managed to convince him to consider other options.

"_Maybe later_," said Rachel in an offhand voice.

"Mama!"

"_I have to go, Rachel_," said Santana quickly, ignoring that last comment. "_Callie is shouting me_."

"_Okay_," said the woman, her glee still quite apparent over the phone. "_Have a good first day_!"

Yeah. Right.

* * *

The office was _exactly_ the same. Santana had expected something to have been at least a little different; something that would signify the passage of time. Not even the trophies had changed, though Sue was bound to have many new ones she could have added to her extensive collection.

Her eyes fell on the two chairs opposite the main desk and she couldn't help the surge of emotion as she remembered the many…many times she had sat in one of them. At that time, Santana had practically lived and died based on whatever Sue had to say at any given moment. She'd been made head Cheerio here. Then she'd had it taken away from her. Then she'd got it back. Then Quinn had stolen once more. Eventually, Sue had decided to make them co-captains. When it had happened, Santana had thought it the most ridiculous idea she had ever heard, but as it turned out, she and Quinn made a pretty good team when they put their differences aside. Looking back on it, it was absurd. How times change; even if offices don't.

She took a step forward but then froze. She felt like something were pulling her back. It was as though the office knew she didn't belong there and she couldn't say she blamed it.

"Santana?" said a voice behind her.

She jumped and spun around.

"Mr. Schue," she said with relief. "You shouldn't sneak up on people like that."

Will Schuester's eyebrows lowered a little as though he believed he had done no such thing. It was an expression Santana had been very familiar with back in the day. Then he smiled warmly and she couldn't help but return it.

"I think that maybe it's time you started calling me Will," he said with a twinkle in his eyes. "We are colleagues now."

Santana nodded solemnly. "Yes. I'm under firm instructions from Sue's messenger that I'm to make sure you don't get any ideas above your station while she's away. She mentioned something about me signing off on a set list for the Glee club?"

Will's face dropped a little and Santana cracked and began to laugh. "You are too easy," she said.

"Not funny, Santana," said Will, but he smiled at her despite his words. Then he said, "You look fantastic."

"You're not looking so bad yourself," Santana replied. And it was true. Oddly, Mr. Schue didn't seem to have changed at all either. Maybe there were a few wrinkles around his eyes that hadn't been there before and she thought that if she looked closely she'd maybe be able to spot a few grey hairs lurking around, but other than that he still seemed to be the same old Will. "I hear you're engaged now?"

The smile on Will's face was almost blinding. He nodded happily. "Yeah, I finally proposed to Emma a couple of months ago."

"About time," Santana remarked. Their Ross and Rachel-esque relationship had become rather tiresome. "Until the whole dentist thing, Britt and I were convinced you two were having some kind of illicit affair anyway."

Will smiled at the memory and then shook his head. "How is Brittany?"

"Oh, you know," said Santana airily. "She's fine. Same old Britt. She's on tour right now."

As hard as she'd tried to keep any kind of negative tone out of her voice, she was sure Will had noticed. He looked closely at her and she raised her eyebrows. "Where's Callie?" he asked, thankfully choosing not to comment on the lack of Brittany.

"I dropped her off at Brittany's parents' this morning," replied Santana, unable to keep a smile off her face. "She's really happy to see them again."

"That's great," said Will earnestly.

Santana opened her mouth to reply but the bell outside the room rang. Wow. She'd forgotten quite how grating that sound was.

With a reluctant glance at the kids now trampling past outside, Will shot Santana a smile. "I'd better go to form then," he said, "If you need anything, you know where to find me."

* * *

It had taken Santana thirty minutes to force herself to sit down in Sue's chair. Her first thought had been that it was literally the most comfortable thing she'd ever sat on in her entire life. How that woman managed to swing so much money was quite beyond Santana. Being scary only got you so far.

She'd searched through all the drawers, all the while thinking about how much trouble she'd be in if Sue suddenly burst through the door to tell her that everything had been a misunderstanding. Sue actually had a surprising amount of paperwork stashed away. She'd done a good job of keeping that quiet after once insisting that she didn't need to fill in paperwork anymore because people should know what she wanted at all times. Santana had also found a drawer full of photographs; in it there was one of her, Brittany and Quinn along with another of the three stood with Sue herself. It was touching really that their coach had deemed them worth saving.

She was pouring over a laminated copy of the Sue Sylvester Master Cleanse recipe with utter revulsion when there was a knock on the door.

"Come in," she said after a pause.

The door opened and in stepped a leggy looking blonde cheerleader with a bright, false smile on her face. Definitely the head Cheerio, Santana thought. She'd been wondering how long it was going to take for this inevitable suck-up visit.

"Hello, Coach Lopez," she said with confidence. "On behalf of the Cheerios, I've come to welcome you to McKinley High."

Santana kept her face neutral and stared at the girl. She faltered and looked around nervously. Santana knew these girls. She had _been_ these girls. She knew they'd be trying to push the boundaries with her, and if she wanted their obedience she needed to show early on that she wasn't going to take any of their crap.

"Who might you be then?" asked Santana finally. The girl looked disappointed.

"I'm Dianne Apple," she said, hitching her smile back up. "The Captain of the Cheerios. Did Coach Sylvester not-"

"No," Santana interrupted. Then she said in a dismissive tone, "She must not have thought it worth mentioning."

The girl visibly withered and Santana almost felt a little sorry for her.

"Was there something else?" said Santana, looking back down at the piece of paper on her desk.

"Er…no, Coach," said Apple. "I just wanted to welcome you to McKinley and offer my services if you need help finding your way around."

"That won't be necessary," replied Santana.

"Oh…You've been here before then?" asked the cheerleader with curiosity.

Santana looked up and raised her eyebrows. Seriously?

"Right," said Apple with a nod. "I'll just…go then."

"I'll see you at practice," said Santana as the blonde turned around the left the room with a swish of her ponytail. Oh yes. The next few weeks were going to be interesting.

* * *

"So?" asked Christina as Dianne stormed towards them with a furious look on her face.

The group of cheerleaders looked up from their lunch table as their leader threw herself down in the free chair that had been reserved especially for her. The chatter died down and they all waited eagerly for news about how the next few weeks were going to go for them.

"She's a bigger bitch than Sylvester," said Dianne vehemently. "Couldn't even be bothered to look at me."

Christina looked unconvinced. "A bigger bitch than the woman who made Charlotte run six and a half miles with weights tied to her ankles because she caught her drinking orange juice instead of the Master Cleanse at the Spring Dance?"

"That was a bad day," said Charlotte sadly.

"Yes," said Dianne firmly.

"Did you get her full name?" asked Julia, pulling her iPhone 19 from her bag and opening Google.

"Santana Pierce-Lopez," said Dianne. "Saw it on an envelope."

It took the girl about thirty seconds before she had a list of results on her screen.

"Okay," said Julia, "Apparently she lives in LA and she's a talent agent. Her more famous clients include Rachel Berry, Finn Hudson and Mercedes Jones blah blah blah."

"Finn Hudson?" said Charlotte, practically salivating at the mere thought.

"A talent agent, hmm?" said Dianne, ideas running through her head at lightning speed.

"Anything else?" said Christina, leaning back in her chair thoughtfully.

"I found her Facebook page," said Julia, "It hasn't been updated in a while and everything is friend-locked. The picture is interesting though."

She held up her iPhone to show a picture of the woman in a Cheerio's outfit doing the splits while being swung six feet in the air by another Cheerio on stilts.

"She's hot."

"That explains why she didn't need me to show her around," Dianne remarked. "She must have been a student here."

"I wonder how long ago that was," said Christina.

"She looks like she's in her late twenties now," said Dianne.

"Really?" said Julia with interest. "I assumed we'd be getting someone about Sue Sylvester's age."

"According to Sylvester they probably are around the same age," said Christina with a roll of her eyes. "My ass is that woman twenty-nine. She looks about the same age as my grandma."

The girls chuckled at this. It had been one of the biggest challenges of the young Cheerios' lives trying to keep their faces straight when Sue Sylvester had announced her upcoming twenty-ninth birthday. They'd managed it of course. You didn't get to be a Cheerio without superb acting abilities.

"Well I'm excited," said Charlotte with a soft smile. "It'll be fun to have a new coach for a while."

"I guess we'll see at the end of the day," said Christina doubtfully.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** I hope you liked the first chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s):** Wow. Thank you all so much for the reviews. It's good to know that people are reading. Hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 2_

Before she opened the door, Santana took a deep breath and held her head high. She was confident. Yes. She could do this. Her grip around the megaphone tightened as she slammed the doors open and strolled out onto the field.

Naturally, all the Cheerios where there waiting with varying looks of apprehension on their faces. From a distance, they could have been the same girls that had been on the squad when Santana herself had been on it. She knew already that Apple was the direct equivalent of Quinn Fabray. She'd done a little research on the girl and discovered that she was the leader of the chastity club as well as dating the quarterback of the football team. Some things never changed. Santana briefly wondered which Cheerio was the equivalent of her.

As she drew level with the group of girls, Apple took a step forward.

"Welcome to-"

"Save it, Pear," Santana interrupted, really not interested in another attempt at being sucked-up to.

"It's Apple, Coach…"

"Whatever," said Santana. She had already lost interest and was now looking at all the girls in turn. She saw some of them exchange nervous looks and it made her feel inordinately more confident. There was a clear bout of laughter behind her and Santana glanced around. What she saw made her mouth drop open.

Rachel Berry and Callie waved cheerfully at her from a few seats up in the stand. Beside them, Finn Hudson, Quinn Fabray and her sprog, and Mercedes Jones were all looking incredibly pleased with themselves. Santana was stunned. What the hell where they all doing there?

She turned back around to the Cheerios, who were alternating between looks of awe at the people in the stands and looks of bewilderment at her. Santana pulled a face.

"Who usually leads the warm-up?" she snapped.

Apple took a step forward and then indicated three other girls stood next to her. "Either me or one of them."

Santana looked at the small group and then pointed to the red-haired girl at the right of Apple. "You, Ginger," she said.

"Charlotte Bray."

Santana nodded and made a mental note of the name. "Stretches and then four laps around the track."

Four laps was excessive and Santana knew it. She didn't need to see the barely concealed looks of horror on the girls' faces to know how hard it was going to be for them to perform any routines immediately after running over a mile. Santana wanted to make her mark though. She also may have wanted time to go and talk to the spectators behind her. She was really curious as to how Rachel Berry had somehow managed to thieve her child from her wife's parents' house.

No verbal complaints were made as the Cheerio's launched into a familiar stretching routine. Santana watched them for a couple of minutes to make sure they were doing everything right before turning around and making her way to the group of people sat in the stands.

"Hey, Mama!" said Callie, jumping from Rachel's knee and running over to Santana. She bent down to pick the girl up and gave her a hug.

"Hi, sweetie," she said, very conscious of the fact that every single Cheerio was staring at her. "How was your day?"

"It was good," said Callie. "Grandma took me to the park."

"Wow," said Santana with fake enthusiasm. "Did you feed the ducks?"

The girl nodded. "She said that she used to take mommy to feed the ducks all the time."

Santana laughed. "That's very true."

She put Callie down and she ran back to Rachel, who was looking incredibly smug.

"Go on then," said Santana. "What are you guys doing here?"

"It was my idea," said Rachel with her usual cheerful confidence. Mercedes and Quinn exchanged a look rolled their eyes.

"Are you kidding, Santana? We wouldn't miss you trying to channel Sue Sylvester for the world," said Quinn, holding her baby closer to her chest and grinning. "Sam wanted to come too but he had to work."

That was understandable. Unlike Rachel, Finn and Mercedes, Sam actually had a proper job. He was climbing his way up the business ladder at NBC. Naturally, Santana had cashed in on that connection more than once when she was trying to get one of her clients on The Girly Show. Sam was a useful person to know. When he had been promoted last year and Quinn had realised she was pregnant, the woman had decided to play the role of housewife until their child was old enough to go to school. It wasn't something Santana would have personally enjoyed, but it seemed to work for them.

"You looked pretty scary down there," said Finn, glancing at the Cheerios, who were now sprinting around the track.

"You do," Mercedes agreed. "You're like a young, Sue Sylvester."

"I'm pretty sure you just insulted me," said Santana.

Mercedes grinned. "Maybe."

"How long are you staying in Lima for?" asked Santana.

"Until the meeting you set up for me," said Rachel happily. "I called the rest of the Glee club and everyone is planning to stop by over the next few weeks. Everybody was actually quite excited when I told them."

"We're planning a reunion party," Mercedes added.

"That sounds great," said Santana. "I haven't seen Wheels and Asian in about two years."

"I think they prefer 'Artie' and 'Tina'," Mercedes pointed out with exasperation. Santana paid her no attention.

"Is Uncle Kurt coming?" asked Callie, looking around with excitement as though he might suddenly pop up from nowhere. The girl was extremely fond of Kurt after he'd last visited and had taken her for ice cream. He'd capped off the excursion with an epic shopping trip where Callie had come back with a whole wardrobe's worth of new clothes that Kurt insisted was the height of children's fashion.

"When there's a party?" said Mercedes, "Uncle Kurt wouldn't miss a party for anything, kiddo."

The girl emitted a 'yay' and then looked down at what she was wearing. Santana had a feeling that she was assessing her clothes to make sure they would be acceptable for Kurt. He'd explained to her the importance of excellent fashion sense and Callie had taken the words deeply to heart. Santana wasn't particularly worried really. With her and Brittany for mother's she failed to see how Callie couldn't be anything but a marvel.

"They're on their last lap," said Finn. Santana grimaced. She'd almost forgotten about the Cheerios.

"Right," she said reluctantly, "I'd better go back down there then. You can tell me how you convinced Britt's parents to let you take Callie when I'm done."

* * *

Two hours later, the Cheerios were beginning to look a little worse for wear. Their exhaustion was obvious, but Santana knew none of them were going to complain. She had very vivid memories of the way Sue would choose one girl to kick off the squad every week and complaints were a sure way to get yourself stripped of your uniform. Santana wasn't going to be doing that; mainly because holding try-outs every week felt like far too much effort. The fear would linger in the girls though, so hopefully she wouldn't need to.

They had run through the last routines they had done with Sue Sylvester and Santana couldn't help but be impressed. They were good. Not as good as she had been of course, and none of the dancing had been as perfect as Brittany's was, but they were still very talented. The only problem seemed to be their attention span. Santana had noticed quite a few of the girls staring dreamily off at Finn behind her. Admittedly, he was no longer 'about as sexy as a Cabbage Patch Kid', but he still wasn't exactly who she'd want to sit around and drool over. Not that she'd be drooling over anybody ever. Well. Maybe one person. Santana wondered how the Cheerios would react if they knew she'd taken Finn's virginity. She'd probably earn their respect without the need for any fear tactics at all.

"Okay, guys," Santana said into her megaphone. "That's all for today."

There were a few sighs of relief as the Cheerios began to relax. Santana whistled loudly and everyone stopped what they were doing to look at her. She pointed to Apple and her three sidekicks. "You, in my office in twelve minutes."

The girls all nodded and then everyone trudged off to the changing rooms. Santana watched them go with satisfaction and then made her way back to her friends.

"You are fierce," said Mercedes as Santana kneeled down on a chair on the row in front of them.

"I know," said Santana with a wicked grin. "Sue is going to be so proud of me."

"I think I heard one of them call you Satan's whore as they were leaving…" said Finn with an astonished expression on his face. Quinn turned around furiously and elbowed him in the side. "Ow! What was that for?"

Quinn gestured to the children and Finn's face went red. "Oh…"

"What's Satan's whore?" said Callie, shooting Finn a very Brittany-esque look.

"Nothing, Callie," said Santana quickly, vowing to punish Finn later. "It's nothing. Just ignore him."

"Sorry," said Finn guiltily. He shrunk in his seat at the glares being directed at him from all directions.

"So what are your plans for the rest of the evening?" asked Santana, targeting the question at Rachel. She was fairly sure Rachel was going to have the entire rest of the day planned for the group whether they wanted it or not, so she might as well not pretend otherwise.

"I think we should take this opportunity to have dinner and catch up on old times," said Rachel definitively. "Breadsticks?"

"Oh, Berry," said Santana dreamily, "You had me at 'Breadsticks'."

* * *

The group had split up to give Santana a chance to finish up at school and then go home to get changed. She held Callie's hand and together they walked through the halls of McKinley to Sue's…Santana's office. She doubted the cheerleaders would be there yet because they still had a couple of minutes and it usually took longer than twelve minutes to get changed.

"Where are we going, Mama?" said Callie, as she struggled to keep up with her mother. Santana noticed and slowed down a little.

"We're going to my office for a minute. I just need to talk to a few people and then we can go home, okay?" said Santana.

Callie looked excited. "I get to go to your office? Really?"

"Really," said Santana with a grin. She had never taken her daughter to work before. It just wasn't a child-friendly environment.

They arrived outside the door and Santana pushed it open and ushered Callie inside. She moved one of the chairs to the corner of the room and instructed Callie to sit on it and stay quiet when the girls arrived.

"Are these trophies yours?" said the girl, looking around the room with widened eyes. Santana laughed.

"No, sweetie," she said. "They are my old cheerleading coach's."

"You were a cheerleader? Like the ones before?" asked the girl with disbelief.

"I certainly was. So was your mommy," said Santana, taking her place behind the desk.

"Were you as good as they are?" said Callie.

Santana scoffed. "Better."

Callie looked delighted and seemed to be bursting with more questions. Their conversation was cut short, however, when there was a sharp knocking on the door. Right on time, Santana thought with satisfaction.

"Come in," said Santana, making a show of looking like she was doing something important.

The girls filed in and stood in front of her awkwardly while she wrote down some nonsense on a piece of paper. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Callie wave to them. They shifted nervously but clearly weren't sure if they were allowed to wave back or not. All except the ginger one that was. Santana decided that she was probably the Brittany of the group.

"Okay," said Santana, looking up from her desk. "Names." It was an order rather than a request.

The captain of the Cheerio's looked a little hurt that Santana still didn't know her name. She forced a smile though. "I'm Dianne Apple."

Santana pretended to make a note of it. She then looked at the ginger who introduced herself as Charlotte Bray again. The other blonde girl was apparently called Julia Sanders and the sullen looking dark haired girl told Santana her name was Christina Rains.

Nodding, Santana looked at the girls thoughtfully for a moment.

"What was wrong with the routine for the last song?" Santana said suddenly.

A fearful look crossed Apple's face so Santana pointed her pen and her. "You. Go."

"Nothing, Coach," said Apple quickly. She looked to her friends for support.

"There was," said Santana with a raised eyebrow. "I know you all know it."

"From the one minute and forty-two second mark," said Christina Rains reluctantly, "the routine is too simple and then the transition of positions at the two minute and ten second mark is too difficult. It looks sloppy."

"Elle Holland was about a second out too and it threw off everybody else's timing," added Apple, obviously desperate to sound like she knew what she was talking about. Santana wondered why Sue had chosen this girl to be the captain. She didn't seem to be any better at the cheers than some of the others and she didn't appear to be too bright either.

For a moment, Santana didn't say anything. Then she nodded slowly. "You're right." The girls looked relieved. "So I'm setting you some homework." Their smiles faded. "Before tomorrow's practice I want you to have come up with a couple of extra moves to add and a different ending position."

"Really?" said Julia Sanders, her eyes comically wide. Santana knew this was a great opportunity for the young Cheerios. Usually Sue would control every aspect of the routines. She was going out tonight though and didn't want to have to think about cheerleading.

"Really," Santana confirmed. "Now get out of my sight before I change my mind."

The girls jumped and fled from the office. As the door shut behind them Callie began to giggle.

* * *

It was after five o clock and Santana had finished getting ready to go out about ten minutes ago; she was just waiting for Callie to get off the phone. As promised, Brittany had called them and had been telling Callie funny stories for the better part of half an hour. They weren't supposed to be meeting Rachel and company for another forty-five minutes so Santana decided there was no need to rush her daughter. Besides, the child obviously missed her other mom a great deal; maybe even as much as Santana missed her.

With a sigh, Santana moved away from the mirror and sat in the middle of her cold, king size bed. She pulled her knees up to the chest and rested her chin on them.

It was hard being back in Lima; especially without Brittany. She had promised herself numerous times that she was never going to return to this God awful place, but she always seemed to be dragged back whether she liked it or not. Her friends had far too many birthdays and weddings for Santana's liking. Okay, so maybe the weddings were few and far between. It was those darn birthdays that seemed to spring up all the time; it was almost as though they were some kind of annual occurrence.

Santana had briefly considered contacting her mother when they'd arrived in town yesterday, but she decided that it just wasn't worth it. None of her parents, biological or otherwise, had ever approved of Santana and Brittany's relationship. When they had married, her mother had refused to even attend the wedding. She shuddered and desperately tried to suppress the memory of what had happened when her father had found out about her and Britt. No. She wasn't going to waste her time thinking about that pathetic excuse for a man.

"Mama?" said a soft voice. Santana jumped and then forced a smile at the little girl leaning against her doorway.

"Hey, sweetie," she said with a happiness that sounded horribly false even to her own ears. "Are you ready to go?"

Callie looked down at the floor and nodded her head. Santana knew immediately that something wasn't right. She leapt off the bed and knelt in front of the child.

"Callie? What's wrong?" said Santana urgently. She placed her hands around the child's arms.

The girl sniffed loudly and a tear leaked from her eye. Santana felt her chest constrict painfully at the sight. "What is it, baby?" she said, wiping the tear from the girl's cheek with her thumb.

"I miss mommy," Callie whispered, lifting her large brown eyes to meet Santana's. "Why doesn't she miss me?"

Santana almost flinched at the utter devastation in her daughter's voice. "What makes you think she doesn't miss you?" she asked.

"She always sounds so happy and she sends me pictures where she's smiley all the time," said Callie.

"Oh, sweetie," said Santana, pulling the girl into a hug, "Of course your mommy misses you. She thinks about you always."

A quiet sob escaped Callie's mouth and Santana rubbed her back soothingly. "How do you know?" the child whispered into her mother's hair.

"Trust me," said Santana. "She misses you every single day. She loves you too much not to."

"Are you sure?" said Callie. Santana mentally cursed Brittany for causing all this heartache and then immediately felt guilty. She had encouraged her wife to take this job so she was just as much to blame as Britt was. If anything, Brittany probably didn't even realise it was hurting their daughter so much. It wasn't her fault.

"I'm sure," said Santana softly. "She loves you more than anyone else in the whole world. She loves you even more than she loves me."

The girl pulled away and searched Santana's face to make sure she was telling the truth. After a moment she looked satisfied and threw her arms around Santana's neck.

"I love you, Mama," said Callie, still sounding a little tearful.

Santana let out a laugh. "Not as much as I love you." She could feel the girl smile into her shoulder at this. "Come on now. Let's go and get you cleaned up and we can meet Aunt Rachel."

As Callie grasped Santana's hand and pulled her through the door, Santana cast one glance back at her empty bedroom. She was going to have to have a talk with Brittany later.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Thanks for reading :-)


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s):** Once again, thank you to everybody who reviewed. In unrelated news to this fic, what restaurant scene in which Santana acted completely out of character? I don't know what lack of continuity between episodes you mean? Hope you enjoy Chapter 3!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 3_

Despite it only being nine o clock, it had been a really long day. Who knew that coaching a group of eager cheerleaders could be so taxing?

Santana sat down on one of the overstuffed armchairs in her current living room with the kind of relish that one never experienced as a child. She shifted into the most comfortable position she could and then flicked the TV on for some background noise.

Breadsticks had, thankfully, been a great success. At the sight of her 'Uncle' Finn, Callie had forgotten all about her earlier upset. The two had spent almost the entire time making stupid faces at each other and the man seemed to have gone out of his way to keep the child entertained. Santana didn't think she'd ever been more grateful for the big oaf. She suspected Rachel may have told him to do it as a reward for being the most amazing talent agent ever.

Throughout dinner, they'd been accosted by no fewer than three groups of people asking for Finn's autograph. Rachel seemed to have developed a kind of defence mechanism against her husband's superior popularity by forcing herself into every single photograph the people had asked to have taken with him. Poor Finn had actually looked a little embarrassed by the whole thing, but Santana had explained that it was just the price one had to pay when they became a TV star in a hugely popular show. It amused Santana to no end that the majority of Finn's fanbase were rabid teenage girls. Rachel enjoyed the idea significantly less; she'd been even less happy when some bloke had come over to tell Mercedes how much he enjoyed her music but didn't know who Rachel was. Some things never changed, Santana thought idly.

Even Quinn's baby, Dominic, had behaved himself for most of the evening. He had only started crying after they'd eaten and they had been about to leave anyway. Callie had been getting tired and it was past her bedtime.

The food had been fantastic and Santana wolfed down about a hundred breadsticks with indecent enthusiasm. At one point Quinn had asked her if she actually wanted to bother with a meal because there were enough breadsticks in the restaurant to fill her up for the next week. Santana had sarcastically remarked how very funny Quinn was but then couldn't help but steal another breadstick from the middle of the table. Damn their irresistible deliciousness.

Just before they had left, Quinn had pulled Santana to one side and asked her if everything was okay. She assured the blonde that she was quite all right and made a mental note to put more of an effort in to acting like herself tomorrow. She didn't want it getting back to Brittany that she'd been moping around Lima and pining after her.

Oh yeah. She needed to phone Brittany.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and sent Britt a text message asking her if she was busy. Within seconds the phone began to ring and Santana answered it with a smile.

"_Hi, Bri_-"

"_Oh my God, San! Guess what_?" came Brittany's voice down the phone. In the background Santana could hear the distinctive noise of music and laughter. Brittany was at a party.

"_You've killed Britney Spears and are taking her place for the rest of the tour_?" Santana guessed.

"_Um…no_," replied Brittany. Even over the phone Santana could tell she was wrinkling her nose in confusion. "_I just met Johnny Depp_!"

"_You just met Johnny Depp_?" Santana repeated faintly.

"_Yeah! I'm back home for a couple of days, remember_?" said Brittany enthusiastically. Santana felt her heart lurch. No, she hadn't remembered. "_He's here filming the new Pirates of the Caribbean film. You know, the one with Captain Jack's son in it_?"

"_Yeah_," said Santana half-heartedly. She had got one of her new clients a role in that film as 'Evil Pirate #2'.

"_I'm at a party with some of the dancers and he's here! I don't know whose party it is though_…" Brittany trailed off thoughtfully.

"_That's great, Britt_," said Santana.

Brittany giggled a little down the phone and Santana could tell she was tipsy. She could tell the difference between all of Brittany's laughs.

"_Yeah_," said Brittany happily. "_So, how was your first day at school_?"

"_School was fine_," said Santana. "_Rachel, Finn, Quinn and Mercedes are here_."

"_Yeah I know! Cal told me,_" said Brittany. "_How is everyone_?"

"_They're okay_," said Santana. "_Dominic is getting really big now. He's starting to look a bit like Sam_."

There was a pause. "_How is Callie doing_?"

There it was. As soon as she had answered the phone Santana had known she wasn't going to tell Brittany about what had happened earlier. Her wife sounded so happy and Santana knew she couldn't ruin it for her. It just wouldn't be fair to place that guilt on Brittany when there was nothing she could do about it.

"_She's fine_," said Santana, keeping the sadness from her voice with a practiced ease. "_She's asleep now. I think Finn tired her out at dinner. He's still like a giant kid himself_."

Brittany chuckled. "_He's like…the silliest person ever_."

Ugh. Santana missed that laugh. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine Brittany's face as they spoke.

"_I don't know_," said Santana. "_You're pretty silly too_."

"_Watch it, you_," said Brittany playfully. "_I know where you live_." Over the phone Santana could hear somebody shouting Brittany's name in the background. "_Er…San_?"

"_Yeah, I can hear_," said Santana. "_You go and have fun_."

"_Okay then_," said Brittany. Santana thought she could almost hear reluctance in her voice. "_I guess I'll talk to you tomorrow_."

"_Yep_," said Santana. "_Have a great night_."

"_You too_," said Brittany. They both knew she wouldn't.

"_Love you_."

"_I love you too, San_."

* * *

After spending almost two whole days in her office, Santana could only conclude that Sue Sylvester was absolutely batshit crazy. The amount of money it cost to send the Cheerio's uniforms to Switzerland to be dry cleaned was beyond excessive. She shook her head in bemusement as she signed the necessary forms and filed it away on her 'stuff to give to Principle Figgins at the end of the day' pile.

There was a knock on the door and Santana jumped. Damn it. See, this was what came from being back in Lima. Jumping at loud noises was so not cool.

"Come in," she snapped.

The door opened and Will Schuester popped his head around. She smiled at him and beckoned to the chair in front of her desk, which he took with a grin.

"You have no idea how much better visits to this office are now that you're here instead of Sue," said Will earnestly.

"I think I can guess," replied Santana, remembering back to the numerous arguments the entire Glee club had borne witness to. Not to mention the whole being a spy for Sue thing that she, Quinn and Brittany had going on for about two years. Yep. They were bizarre times. It was the kind of stuff you just couldn't make up.

"There are fewer insults about my hair," said Will. Obviously a sore spot for him.

"Ah, that reminds me," said Santana, leaning down and pulling a piece of paper out of a drawer. "I'm to call you 'Mr. Rogers' today."

Will gaped at her. "Excuse me?"

"I think it's a dig at the way you dress," Santana informed him.

"I got that," said Will. "What is that piece of paper?"

"What? This thing?" said Santana, waving the paper in front of him with a smug grin on her face. "It's Sue Sylvester's list of witticisms, which I'm sure she has memorised, to use against you."

It took Will a few moments to process this. "Are you serious?" he finally decided on saying.

"All the Greats prepare their impromptu remarks in advance, William," said Santana with an almost flawless Sue Sylvester impression.

Will laughed at that and shook his head. Over the years, Santana had forgotten how much she liked Mr. Schue. Even though he'd known she was a spy for Sue, he'd still made her feel welcome in the Glee club. He'd always been really supportive of her in a way her parents never had and he, with Miss. Pillsbury, had also been a great comfort to her during the Incident and she didn't think she'd ever stop being grateful to him for that. Will was just one of _those_ teachers. The type that made a difference in a student's life. Okay, perhaps not in Spanish. Frankly, the way Santana had been forced to 'learn' Spanish had been utterly ridiculous. She could speak the language better than all of the teachers at the school. That was neither here nor there though.

"Anyway," said Will, "I was wondering if you wanted to make a special guest appearance at the Glee club tonight?"

"The Glee club is still going?" asked Santana, genuinely surprised that Sue hadn't managed to shut it down.

"Why would you say that? Of course it is," said Will with a frown.

"That's…good," said Santana. "Sure. I'll come. Although I'm not sure they'll be very receptive to me. They won't have had many good experiences with the Cheerios coach I would have thought."

"They haven't," Will confirmed. "Sue tried to get one of my kids expelled a few weeks ago because apparently he 'looked at her funny'."

"That sounds about right," she agreed.

"Plus, you've already got yourself quite the reputation. I've already heard some of the Cheerios call you 'Satan'," Will added.

"I prefer 'Master of the Underworld', but 'Satan' will do, I suppose," said Santana with a shrug.

"Satan is the obvious deviant of Santana," Will pointed out.

"Yeah, I know. Not the first time I've been called it, would you believe?" said Santana with mock bewilderment.

"I just don't understand it," replied Will in the same tone of voice. Then the two grinned.

Santana leaned back in her chair and thought about her schedule for the rest of the day. On Tuesdays the Cheerios practiced in place of last period instead of after school or in the morning. She had never been quite sure why; probably another of Sue's whims. That gave her time to go to the Glee club for a while and then she could pick up Callie from the Pierce's. They had told her they wanted Callie to stay for dinner that night anyway, so it wouldn't matter if she were a little late to pick her up. Callie wasn't likely to mind either; she absolutely adored Brittany's parents.

"What are your Glee kids like this year?" asked Santana.

A small frown flitted across Will's face. "They're good. Really good. I think we can take Nationals this year. We're having a bit of a morale problem at the moment though."

"The usual stuff?" said Santana.

"Pretty much," said Will, looking defeated. "We don't have any football players or Cheerio's this year. We haven't for a while. It means there's absolutely no buffer for some of the less popular kids. One of them was trapped in a locker for five and a half hours last week."

She wasn't exactly surprised by this news. She, Brittany and Quinn would have never joined Glee if it wasn't for Quinn's uncontrollable and apparently justified paranoia regarding Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson. Looking back, of course, Santana was glad she had joined. It didn't change the facts though. Glee club just wasn't cool.

"I'm not sure if that's something I can help you with," said Santana, her cheeks becoming a little warm. "I wasn't really a victim so much as a bully…" Will didn't respond. "I'm pretty sure I shoved Jacob Ben Israel in his locker on more than one occasion."

"He deserved it," said Will with disgust. "I know I'm supposed to be impartial as a teacher, but that kid kind of gave me the creeps."

"I hear he's in prison now," said Santana, "for being an exhibitionist."

"That's…grim," said Will, turning a little green.

"Totally," Santana agreed. Out of everyone in the school, that boy had been right near the top of her most hated list. His lewd comments aimed in her direction were just a little too disturbing for comfort. Not to mention his revolting obsession with Rachel Berry.

There was another knock on the door and both the occupants of the room turned to look at it. Santana imagined it was probably another of her Cheerios coming to try and butter her up. In fact, she was surprised that Apple hadn't put in an appearance yet today.

"Come in," said Santana. It was bizarre pretending to have authority at her old school.

Miss. Pillsbury pushed open the door and looked inside. She looked exactly like Santana remembered, from the ginger mane down to the giant doe-eyes. What was odd was that she didn't even look any older. Santana pushed back some old memories that threatened to surface and forced herself to smile at the woman.

"Emma!" said Will, jumping to his feet and looking nervous. Santana stifled a laugh.

"Will," said Emma by way of greeting. "Santana."

"Hey, Miss. P," said Santana a little awkwardly. She'd never felt entirely comfortable around the councillor but had never been able to decipher why. "What can I do for you?"

"I was looking for Will, actually," said Miss. Pillsbury apologetically. "There's been some trouble with one of your Glee kids and Figgins is looking for you."

Will sighed. "Who is it this time? What happened?"

"Someone found Jessica duct taped to one of the football posts outside in her underwear," said Emma sadly. "We don't know who did it yet. She hasn't stopped crying."

"I'll be right there," said Will heavily. He offered Santana a weak smile. "I'll see you at Glee then?"

"Definitely," said Santana.

* * *

As much as it pained her to admit it, Santana actually enjoyed Cheerios practice at the end of the school day. The four girls had done a great job of sprucing up that last routine and Santana had enjoyed watching Apple try, and fail, to teach the last few moves to some of the younger cheerleaders. Either this batch of Cheerios were particularly stupid or Sue was really losing her touch when it came to spotting leadership material. Santana liked to imagine it was the first, because she chose to believe that Sue was going to be around forever; training cheerleaders until the end of time itself.

Eventually, Santana had become bored of watching Apple get frustrated and had explained to the group exactly how to perform the moves and demonstrated it with Other Blonde and Ginger. She had received a smattering of applause and behind her she could hear Mercedes, Kurt and Tina whooping loudly. After that, there had been minimal problems and Santana had to admit that the routine looked good. She might even use that one for the next assembly she was requested for.

It had been great to see Kurt again too. They'd become surprisingly close during what he liked to refer to as 'The Great Gay Panic of 2010'. While everybody else in the Glee club had rallied around Brittany to console her, only Kurt had actually sought Santana out to ask what had happened. It had taken a while, but the two had become good friends during their final year of school.

The routine ended with an incredibly quickly assembled pyramid and Santana looked on with satisfaction.

"Not great," said Santana into the megaphone, "But not bad either." The cheerleaders looked relieved. "Hit the showers."

She turned around and made her way up the steps to where Kurt, Mercedes and Tina were sat. Kurt was grinning manically at her. Hmm…on second thought…

"Freeze," said Santana loudly. The Cheerios took her words to heart and literally froze in whatever position they had been in. "By tomorrow morning I want you all to have chosen one song and I'll pick my favourite to do our next routine to." There were a few excited smiles and for a few moments nobody moved. "Go!"

As the cheerleaders scattered, Santana drew level with her friends.

"Not lost your touch I see, Cruella," said Kurt with a short laugh.

"You just wish you had my dignity and deportment," replied Santana. "I'm like a lioness."

"And a modest one at that," said Mercedes, sharing an amused look with Tina.

Santana shrugged. "Whatever. Are you coming to Glee club with me or what?"

"Ooh. Flashback," Tina exclaimed, closing her eyes wistfully.

"Of course we are, fool," said Mercedes, standing up and brushing herself down. "Like I'd miss the chance to go back to that old music room and watch Mr. Schue try to rap."

"You're not going like that," said Kurt, looking Santana up and down. Santana looked down at herself and frowned.

"Why? What's wrong with my clothes?" said Santana. Tracksuit bottoms weren't really her thing usually but she still looked good in them.

"I'm not going anywhere with somebody that looks like a gym teacher," said Kurt, picked a bag up from the chair next to him and handing it to Santana. "Put these on. They're some of my designs from the new Fall line."

Unfortunately, becoming a star hadn't worked out for Kurt in the way he would have liked. Instead he had joined a small company that designed clothes for children. His obvious flair for the job had sent him flying up the chain of command and soon Kurt had moved on to work at Vivienne Westwood. He made a big impression at his job in adult clothes designing but had soon decided that his talents just weren't being utilised properly and had left to start up his own business. Much to everyone's surprise, it had taken off and Kurt now had his own designer label. He was making quite a lot of money out of it and his clothes were becoming more popular with every passing day. Dakota Fanning had worn one of his dresses to the Oscars earlier in the year.

Santana took the bag from Kurt and glared at him. "Don't think just because we're older now I won't still kick your ass."

"Sure you will," said Kurt patronisingly.

He then stood up and the four began the walk to Santana's office; because, despite Kurt's instructions, Santana was pretty sure it was against the law for her to start taking her clothes off in the middle of a field at a high school. She really didn't care if they were a bit late if she could avoid going to jail. She had also been forced to punch Kurt in the arm when he'd suggested she would have done it ten years ago.

"I think I'm gonna head straight to the music room," said Mercedes when they were half way there. "I'll tell Mr. Schue where you are."

"I'll go with you," said Tina quickly. She and Santana had never really clicked so Santana understood why she was reluctant to stay with her and Kurt.

The group separated and Kurt and Santana walked for the large part in silence. When they arrived at the office, Kurt sat himself down on the chair in the corner of the room that Callie had been sat on the previous day. She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You just going to sit there then?" said Santana, pulling the clothes out of the bag. Kurt just smiled benignly at her. Whatever, it's not like she'd ever been self-conscious about her body anyway.

"If you were straight I think this would class as sexual harassment," Santana remarked as she pulled off her trousers.

"If _you_ were straight I'm pretty sure you'd have jumped me by now, so I think we're safe," Kurt replied.

Santana snorted and held up the skinny jeans in front of her. She looked at them critically. Skinny jeans hadn't been fashionable for about eight years.

"So, are you seeing anybody?" she asked, pulling on the jeans with a shrug. "Jesus, Kurt, how tight are these supposed to be?"

"They are the right size for you. I called Brittany and got your measurements," said Kurt smugly.

"That traitor," Santana muttered, grimacing as she looked down at herself.

"Yes, I am seeing someone, actually," said Kurt, suddenly becoming very interested in his nails. Santana stopped looking at the chunky woollen jumper in her hands and zoned in on Kurt.

"Oh? And why am I only hearing about it now?" said Santana.

"Because you're going to disapprove," said Kurt heavily.

"What's his name?" asked Santana.

"Jessie St James."

"Why do I know that na– wait, are you serious?" Santana gaped at him. "Jessie St James? The asshole that pretended to join our school and then threw eggs at Berry?"

Kurt shot her an annoyed look. "Yes. He's not that bratty little kid anymore though, Santana. You of all people should know that people can change after high school."

All right, so she may have to concede that point. "I'll give him the benefit of the doubt for now, I suppose," said Santana, a little cynically. "What does he do these days?"

"At the moment he's playing Roger in an off-Broadway production of RENT," said Kurt. "It isn't what he wanted, but not everybody can become movie stars."

"Is that a hint?" said Santana with a roll of her eyes. Kurt looked surprised and shook his head. "Because until he proves to me that he is a decent human being, I'm not doing _anything_ for that man."

"I wouldn't expect you to," said Kurt honestly.

She knew he was telling the truth so she decided to let the subject drop. They were already late for Glee club because Santana had kept the Cheerios back for longer than she was supposed to. With a quiet, disapproving noise, Santana pulled her tank top over her head. Kurt let out a small gasp.

"What?" said Santana. Then she saw what he was looking at and quickly grabbed the jumper and forced it over her head.

"Sant–"

"Don't," she interrupted. "Seriously. Just…don't."

He stared up at her sadly but said nothing. Her shoulders slumped and she looked away. She hated that look. That look of…pity. She didn't want it and she didn't want to see it. She'd had enough of it back in school and really didn't need a reminder while she was in Lima. No thank you.

Kurt shook off his disquiet and stood up, looking at her critically. He walked over to her and adjusted the jumper so the left side rested further down her arm and the right side was wrapped around her shoulder. Then he prowled around her and muttered something under his breath. When arrived back in front of her, he smiled with satisfaction.

"You get that I'm not a human Barbie doll, right?" she said, pushing him backwards.

"You changed your clothes because I told you to," said Kurt. "Sounds like a Barbie doll to me."

"Shut up, Elton."

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Thank you for reading. I know this one was a bit long. Next chapter: Glee Club.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s):** Thanks to everybody who reviewed! Words can't express how grateful I am. Hope you like Chapter 4.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 4_

Glee Club. She hadn't realised how much she missed it until she and Kurt arrived at the door.

Kurt knocked loudly and then he and Santana walked into the room. Mercedes seemed to be in the middle of some kind of speech so the two went and sat down next to Will. Unsurprisingly, as Santana crossed the room, all eyes were on her and she could practically feel their hostility and suspicion. Oh yes, this was going to be a good evening, Santana thought bitterly. Although, she reasoned, it was oddly fitting. Very similar to the last time she had joined Glee club. Only that time the other members weren't too afraid of her to vocalise their displeasure.

The kids quickly lost interest in Santana and went back to listening to Mercedes talk about how her career had taken off three years ago with a role as Mama Morton in Chicago. A role that Santana had got her the audition for, she thought to herself. It was good, Santana thought, for the Glee kids to hear this success story. When they themselves had been in Glee, the only encouragement they ever got was from that Neil Patrick Harris alike who had told them to follow their dream _after_ telling them earlier that not a single one of them were going to make it in show business. He wasn't exactly a poster boy for becoming a star either so none of them had felt particularly inspired by him.

Mercedes went on to explain to them that her agent had been approached by a producer wanting to take Mercedes to a recording studio for a test run and since then she had released an album. Okay, so it hadn't made the charts yet, but Mercedes was getting there. At Santana's insistence, the record label she was on had hired a new PR agent and he was doing an excellent job of promoting the album around the country. Santana was contemplating trying to get Mercedes a bit-part role in something soon for a bit more exposure.

Once she had finished talking, one of the students requested she sing for them and Mercedes was more than happy to acquiesce. She had even conveniently brought the sheet music to her single with her.

"Kurt, Tina, Santana," instructed Mercedes, holding out the music to them.

"You want us to sing backup?" asked Tina with a knowing smile. "Just like old times."

Reluctantly, Santana took the music.

When the band started playing and Mercedes began to sing, Santana couldn't help but smile at the familiar sensation of being a part of a team. True to form, the kids joined in for the chorus and Mr. Schue sat back with a jovial look on his face.

The song ended and everyone cheered. Santana wished Brittany was there because she would have loved it.

"Thank you, Mercedes Jones!" said Will loudly. The group clapped and whooped.

Then it was Kurt's turn to talk to the group about what Glee had done for him. His story was a lot sadder than what Santana had heard of Mercedes. It was hard to hear about the abuse Kurt had suffered in his high school years because of his sexuality. It was even worse knowing that not only had she done nothing to stop it, but she had also contributed to it. She was glad that he hadn't held a grudge.

It didn't take a genius to work out which inevitable member of Glee was gay. She would have known even without the other members shooting him sympathetic glances every couple of minutes. The sailor hat gave him away.

Kurt then spoke about how his business had taken off and explained how he was still good friends with many of the people he had been in the Glee club with. The kids in the room seemed quite happy about that as though it gave them hope for their own future. If Santana remembered correctly, none of the members of the Glee club when she had been a member had an abundance of friends before they had joined.

"Does anybody have any questions?" asked Will, as Kurt finished his story and took his seat next to Santana.

"I do," said a girl at the back. Santana had noticed she was holding the hand of another girl who had been crying almost the entire time they had been in the room. She suspected that it was the one who had been tied to the goal posts outside. "Why is Coach Lopez here? Is she spying for Sue Sylvester?"

"No," said Will sternly. Santana grimaced but couldn't really blame them for their suspicion. She was the enemy. "She was in Glee club just like everyone else in this room."

"And now you coach the Cheerios?" asked one of the other kids sceptically.

"It's not like she needs a good job," replied first girl. "Look at the size of that rock on her finger."

Santana looked down at her hand fondly. She loved her engagement ring. It had a giant diamond in the middle and two rubies on either side. Brittany's was similar, except the diamond was a different shape and it was white gold with sapphires rather than rubies. The two women had bizarrely decided to propose to each other within a few weeks of each other and when Santana had taken Brittany to the park to ask her to marry her, Brittany had laughed and presented Santana with the ring in her pocket. That had been a good night.

"I'm only here until Sue comes back," said Santana, speaking for the first time. "This isn't my actual job."

"What is your job?" asked the Indian girl at the front. She sounded curious rather than hostile.

"She's my agent," said Mercedes with a small smile.

Suddenly, they were all a lot more interested in her. Santana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "I'm a talent agent based in LA." The kids seemed to be rather more receptive to her after that statement.

They talked for a few minutes about Santana's clients and how she had got the job. Naturally, Finn Hudson became a hot topic conversation down to one of the girls asking what type of cereal he liked to eat for his breakfast. She had not known the answer to that question.

"Anymore questions?" asked Will, when they had exhausted discussion about all aspects of Santana's career.

"You were all in Glee club?" asked one of the boys. "This one here?"

"Yeah," Tina replied.

"A long time ago," added Mercedes.

"How did you deal with all the bullying?" he said in a quiet voice. Everyone turned to look at him, but his eyes stayed firmly on the floor.

"Yeah," said one of the girls, picking up where the boy had left off. "I get slushied like…every single day. I have to keep a spare set of clothes in my locker."

"So did I," said Kurt with a bitter smile.

"I started bringing an umbrella to school to use as a shield," said Tina.

"I had to start bringing drops with me because it helped to get out the corn syrup out of my eyes," said Mercedes bitterly.

Santana noticed that everyone was looking at her for an answer. "I was the captain of the Cheerios," she said in an awkward voice. "Being slushied wasn't really a problem for me."

"That's not entirely true," said Kurt with a raised eyebrow.

"What?"

"Oh yeah," said Tina, shooting Santana a slightly disturbed look.

"What are you-?" then she stopped. It all came screaming back to her. "Oh."

"What happened?" asked one of the boys. Kurt grinned and began to tell the story.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Brittany and Santana walked down the hallways of McKinley High School, chattering happily with their pinkies linked. Santana felt amazing. She had literally never been happier. She had Brittany at her side once more, her grades were good, Glee club was going well and she was once again the captain of the Cheerios. In her delighted haze, she didn't even notice the two football players ambling towards her.

Not until the slushie hit her full in the face.

Every single person in the hallway gasped in horror. _Nobody_ slushied Santana Lopez. She froze in astonishment, not entirely sure what had just happened. She'd seen it done to other people enough times to have a vague idea though. The sound of Karofsky and Azimio's mocking laughter forced its way through to Santana's consciousness and she lifted her hands to wipe the slushie from her eyes.

Santana was suddenly aware that Brittany was in front of her with a look of devastation on her face. "San? Santana? Are you okay?"

"Dykes."

Santana pushed Brittany out of the way, rage filling every atom of her being.

"What the fuck?" she demanded.

Karofsky took a suggestive step forward, "You know," he said, "If you and Brittany are looking for a man–"

The next thing that could be heard was Karofsky howling in pain. He doubled over but Santana grabbed his collar and punched him hard across the face. There was a sickening crunch and Santana was fairly confident that it was the sound of Karovsky's nose breaking. She wrapped her foot around his ankles and pushed him roughly backwards and the football played fell crashing to the ground. In the back of her mind Santana was dimly aware of the ever increasing number of people surrounding them.

Santana kicked Karofsky in the ribs and tried to ignore the way the corn syrup was stinging her eyes, making her vision blurry.

"Don't kill him, San," said Brittany blandly.

With one final kick, Santana stopped and then bent down to straddle the agonised boy's stomach. Droplets of blue slushie fell from her hair and onto Karofsky's face.

"You're lucky that Brittany is such a forgiving soul," said Santana, stroking a finger lightly across Karofsky's cheek.

"You crazy bitch," the boy wheezed, struggling weakly.

Santana smiled and began to unzip his jersey and then pushed it over his shoulders. She pulled it out from underneath it and held it behind her where she knew Brittany would take it. She was already getting cold and wanted something to stave off the chill before she went to the locker room to shower. Once Brittany had taken the garment, Santana held her hand out to the side where she had seen Asian and Other Asian holding slushies.

"Tina," she prompted and quickly found herself wielding the weapon that had been used against her.

Rather than throw it on his face all in one go, Santana took her time letting the grape slushie slide onto his face on his t-shirt. Some of the crowd cheered and she could hear Kurt's distinctive laughter somewhere. She was glad at least somebody was enjoying this.

Karofsky was muttering obscenities under his breath when she finally stood up. Instead of walking away, Santana wanted to make sure she'd made her point. She snatched the slushie cup from Mike Chang and walked back to Karofsky, who was making a poor show of trying to sit up. Her foot quickly found his crotch and she pressed down hard. He cried out in agony and his swearing became higher pitched.

"Listen here, bitch," she said with an icy calm, "If you come within ten feet of me or Brittany… or the gay kid…in fact, any member of the Glee club, ever again, I'm going to hunt you down, I'm going to rip off your balls and then I'm going to display them on the wall next to our Cheerios Nationals trophy." Karofsky whimpered. "_Do I make myself clear_?" She pressed her foot down harder and he yelped and nodded frantically.

Santana smiled sweetly at him and took a step back. "I'm glad we understand each other."

She turned her head and held her hand out to Brittany, who took it with a weak smile. The two began to stroll forward, but not before Santana threw her second slushie at a horrified looking Azimio on the way past. The crowd parted like the Red Sea to let the two Cheerios through.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Oh, it was not that bad!" Santana protested. The Glee kids were all looking at her with a mixture of horror and amusement.

"It totally was," said Tina. "Karofsky was in hospital for two days. The doctors weren't sure if he was ever going to be able to have children."

"Yeah, well…" Santana trailed off clumsily. Kurt laughed at her and she scowled. It really wasn't funny.

"That's why the football team stopped bullying you all?" asked Will, aghast.

"Of course it was," Kurt said simply. "After one homophobic slur, Santana hulked out and put the fear of God into them. If only she had done it sooner; I might not have been thrown into the dumpster so many times. I ruined so many expensive clothes that way…"

"If it had happened sooner then I wouldn't have cared enough to put you on my list," Santana pointed out. Kurt pulled a face and seemed to concede this point.

There was a pause and then one of the Glee boys shook his head. "So, basically, what you're saying is that if we want the other kids to stop bullying us, we need to beat one of them to a bloody pulp?" he asked dubiously.

"No!" said Will quickly. Santana looked down guiltily. "Violence isn't the answer, guys."

"It sounds like it is," someone said.

"It isn't," said Santana firmly. "The only reason I didn't get my ass kicked on that day was because I took him by surprise." Then she added, "And also my freakish upper body strength."

"And you have a black belt in kickboxing," said Mercedes.

"There is that," Santana agreed. She'd taken up kickboxing some time during her teenage years as a way of working out some of her misplaced aggression. It hadn't worked out quite as planned.

"I can't believe you guys didn't tell me all this," said Will, looking genuinely disappointed with them. "How did you even get away with it?"

"Do you really think that three hundred pound bulk of a football player was going to admit that he was beaten in a fight by a below average height cheerleader?" asked Kurt. "I think he told the doctor that he was mugged."

Santana had heard about none of this. She hadn't even known he'd gone to hospital; although she could have guessed on account of his broken nose. But no, for the rest of the day Santana had hid in the Cheerios locker room while she fought back tears and battled past the utter despair and humiliation of having to wash sticky blue slushie from her face and clothes. Nobody but Brittany knew that, of course, and to keep up appearances Santana had spent the rest of the month wearing Karofsky's football jersey as a badge of honour. It made her sick to think about it.

Thankfully, the Glee club seemed to have finally run out of questions so Will took charge and went on to lead the practice as usual. The kids sang Don't Stop Believing.

* * *

Later that night, Santana picked up her phone and pressed the first number on her speed dial.

"_Hey, San_!"

"_Hi, Brittany_."

"_How's it going_?"

"_Oh you know…can't complain_," said Santana, idly playing with one of the tassels of the cushion she was leaning on. She'd never have tasselled cushions in her own home. They were so very old fashioned.

"_Cal in bed_?" asked Brittany.

"_Yeah. She went about a couple of hours ago. I let her stay up late because Quinn and Kurt came for dinner_," replied Santana.

"_Cool_," said Brittany, "_How's Kurt doing_?"

"_He's okay. Did you know he's dating Jessie St. James now_?" said Santana, unable to keep that last part from escaping her mouth. This was not what she'd called Brittany to talk about.

"_Who_?" asked Brittany blankly.

"_The guy who went out with Berry in high school from that other Glee club who beat us at Regionals_," said Santana.

"_Er_…"

"_He threw eggs at Rachel in the parking lot_."

"_Um_…"

Santana rolled her eyes. "_You thought he was Mr. Schue's son_."

"_Oh_!" Brittany exclaimed, "_Why didn't you say that sooner! He's hot_."

"…_Right_."

"_He didn't tell me when I spoke to him last_," said Brittany thoughtfully.

"_Uh huh. And when was that_?" asked Santana, knowing full well what the answer was.

"_It was when he phoned to ask me for your_…" Brittany trailed off. "_Oh_."

"Oh, _indeed_," said Santana.

"_Sorry_…"

"_I don't think you are_," said Santana, trying and failing to keep her voice stern.

Brittany chuckled. "_I'm not sorry. I bet you looked hot in whatever Kurt made for you_."

"_I totally rocked it_," Santana confirmed.

"_You should send me pictures_," said Brittany suggestively.

"_Yeah, okay_," said Santana in an offhand voice. "_I'll tell Kurt to send you a couple of post-production shots_."

"_San_," Brittany whined. "_That wasn't what I meant_."

"_I know what you meant_," said Santana with a quiet laugh. "_You're about a subtle as a flying mallet_."

There was a pause. "_I've never seen a flying mallet before. Does that happen a lot_?"

"_Not a lot, no_," said Santana wearily.

"_Hey, Santana_?" asked Brittany.

"_Yeah_?"

"_Are you okay_?"

Santana slid down the sofa a little more and pulled one of the cushions to her chest.

"_Do you remember when we got together_?" Santana asked.

"_Which time_?"

"_The proper time_," Santana clarified. "_After I…er…freaked out because you sang 'Ever Fallen In Love With Someone You Shouldn't Have' at me in Glee. When we decided to be a proper couple_."

"_Of course I remember_," said Brittany, though her confusion was evident. "_It was like…one of the best days of my life_." Santana smiled.

"_Do you remember a couple of days later when Karofsky threw that slushie at me?" _Santana continued.

"_Yeah_…" said Brittany, her voice was quieter this time. "_You sat in the shower with all your clothes on for about two hours_."

"…_Yeah_. _Did you know that I put Karofsky in the hospital_?"

Brittany seemed to hesitate for a moment. "_No. You did beat him pretty bad though_." Santana sighed. "_Why do you ask, San_?"

"_I went to Glee club today and they were talking about how they're bullied all the time and I can't help but think about how I never was_," Santana said, not quite sure herself what point she was trying to make. "_I just think…I don't know. Maybe it was my turn or something. I probably shouldn't have broken some guy's nose just because he threw a drink at me_."

"_Stop it, Santana_" said Brittany. "_He deserved it. Don't you remember all that stuff he did to Kurt_?"

"_Yeah but_–"

"_But nothing_," Brittany interrupted. "_If you hadn't done what you did, he would have kept harassing the entire Glee club_. _Someone needed to put a stop to it 'cause the teachers weren't going to_."

Santana closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "_I guess so_."

"_Are you sure this is really what you're upset about_?" said Brittany after a moment.

"_What do you mean_?" asked Santana.

"_Are you sure this isn't about you feeling guilty over bullying other kids_?" said Brittany softly.

Santana opened her mouth to protest but stopped in her tracks and sighed.

"_What_?"

"_I think you might be right_," Santana admitted. "_I just…was so horrible to people. I made them feel awful. Even now I still call Rachel 'Man-Hands' when I forget to stop myself_."

"_San_…"

"_I was just so terrible to everybody_," Santana whispered.

"_Not everybody_," said Brittany.

"_What_?"

"_Do you know how bad school would have been for me without you, San_?" said Brittany earnestly. "_Before I knew you, all the kids would make fun of me and steal my crayons. They'd laugh at me in the playground and push me over because they thought it was funny. Then you came along, all bossy and demanding, and you saved me from them_." Santana felt tears rise but she pushed them down. "_You were like my knight in shining armour_."

"_But_–"

"_No buts! You were my protector and I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't been there for me_," said Brittany firmly.

"_You'd have been okay_," Santana protested weakly. No she wouldn't.

"_Let it go, San_," said Brittany kindly. "_You're a good person_."

Santana laughed. "_Okay, Brittany. I'll try._ _And _w_hen did you become so smart, hmm_?"

"_I've always been smart_," said Brittany confidently. "_Where do you think Callie gets it from_?"

"_Not me_," said Santana.

"_Definitely not you_," Brittany confirmed. "_Now, it's getting late. Don't you stay up all night worrying about things that you did over a decade ago_."

"_Yeah…I should probably go to bed. School tomorrow morning_," said Santana reluctantly. "_Bad times_."

"_Totally_," Brittany agreed.

"_I'll talk to you tomorrow_?" asked Santana.

"_Of course_," said Brittany. "_Nighty night_."

"_Night, Britt_."

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Brittany. Soon. Promise. Thanks for reading :-)


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s):** Thank you to everybody who took the time to review! Okay, so this chapter is a little bit jumpy. I tried to fix it and failed horribly so sorry about that. It's all stuff that needs to happen though I'm afraid so it needed to go in. I hope you enjoy this chapter anywayz.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 5_

The rest of the week almost passed without incident. Her friends continued to show up to her practices and the Cheerios continued to impress. Callie was still having a great time with the Pierces and Brittany still phoned her twice a day.

The only moment really of note was when Santana overheard two of her Cheerios (and when did she start thinking of the Cheerios as being hers?) laughing about what they had done to 'that Gleek, Jessica' the day before. It didn't take long for Santana to work out _exactly _what event they were referring to. Controlling her temper had never been Santana's strong point.

To cut a long story short, Santana had screamed at the girls in front of the entire school and had kicked them out of the Cheerios. It was pointless, really, because Sue would just take them back as soon as she returned from…whatever bizarre mission she was on. And perhaps the screaming may have been a slight overreaction on her part due to the pent up frustration she had been experiencing over the last few days, through no fault of the Cheerios. She didn't really care though. It made her feel better, and for the next few days at least, the cheerleaders would be giving the Glee club a wide berth for fear of swift and painful retribution. Though, when she thought about what she would have done if somebody had done something like that to her own daughter, perhaps the screaming and the being kicked off the Cheerios had been an under reaction. Those girls should have been expelled.

Mr. Schue had been happy. He'd burst into her office and thanked her profusely for doing something that Sue never would have done. Apparently the Glee Club now saw her as some kind of folk hero, which was nice. They hadn't stopped calling her Satan though, which Santana approved of.

It was Saturday now and as per Sue's instructions, Santana was holding practice again. Why that woman willingly worked six days a week every fortnight was a mystery to Santana.

The song that had been selected was 'Ray of Light' by Madonna, because it reminded Santana of when she had been a Cheerio. Plus she wanted to use one of her favourite Sue Sylvester insults about Madonna weeping in a stately manor home in the English countryside. That one had amused her so much that she'd written it down. Anyway, Callie loved that song and she was there today with Rachel, Finn and Puck. It was very distracting for the girls who seemed to be more interested in gazing adoringly at the men. All of them expect one Cheerio anyway, who actually seemed to be more focussed on not falling over. Hm.

"All right," said Santana into her megaphone with a disappointed shake of her head as half of the Cheerio's stumbled to one side. "That's all for today." She knew why they were off balance. There were two less Cheerio's than there had been a couple of days ago. Maybe she should hold try-outs.

Behind her she could hear Callie cheering wildly and Puck laughing at her.

"Rains," Santana called to the retreating girls. "My office. Now."

* * *

When Santana arrived at her office, the sulky cheerleader was standing outside the door. She beckoned her into the room and then pointed to the chair in front of her desk.

"Sit," said Santana. The girl followed her and sat down, her arms folded into an obvious defensive position.

"It wasn't my fault they fell," Rains was quick to point out.

Santana sat back and looked at the girl carefully. She shifted nervously under the scrutiny but met Santana's gaze with a kind of fierce determination.

"I know it wasn't," she said finally. The girl relaxed a little. "That's not why I wanted to talk to you." She tensed again.

"What is it?" said the girl, then she caught herself and added, "Coach."

To give her a few extra seconds to decide how to phrase her next question, Santana took a drink from her water bottle. Eventually, she decided on a direct approach. She had never been one for subtlety.

"How did you hurt yourself, Christina?" said Santana.

There was a flash of fear in the girl's dark eyes, but it was gone as soon as it appeared. Then she shrugged. "I don't know what you mean."

"Yes, you do," Santana said simply. It was impossible to miss the way the girl would flinch whenever she'd move in too strenuous a way. Today hadn't been the first time Santana had noticed her doing it either.

"I fell when I was working out," said Christina. She was obviously a good liar and Santana might have believed her if she hadn't lied the first time she'd asked.

"Is that right?" said Santana.

"What else would it be?" the girl challenged.

Santana sighed and then nodded. "Okay then." There was no point in arguing. She knew it wouldn't get her anywhere.

"Is there anything else?" said Rains impatiently.

"Yes," said Santana, her voice becoming noticeably harsher. "Drop the hint to Kiwi that if she doesn't improve her act, I'm replacing her."

Rains looked surprised; but she nodded and then stood up.

"If you need anybody to talk to you know where to find me," Santana called after the girl as she left the room.

* * *

Half way through her second week at McKinley, Santana attended her first staff meeting. She was supposed to have gone to three others but had decided that Sue Sylvester was unlikely to have attended them, so why should she? It wasn't like her presence would have done anything anyway; she was only the temporary coach of the Cheerios. Besides, she had another job that she was currently giving far less than her best efforts towards. She used the time she should have been in meetings to set up some auditions for her clients.

During the staff meeting, Santana discovered that there was going to be a parents evening at McKinley in just over a week. A parents evening that she was expected to attend.

"But I don't even know the names of over half of my students," Santana had argued. "What am I supposed say to their parents?"

A few of the teachers had chuckled at this. There hadn't been a huge staff turnover since she had attended the school as a student, and a lot of them seemed to remember her. Santana had absolutely no desire to wax lyrical about her days as a pupil with elderly educators, so she had been less than friendly towards most of the staff to scare them away. She was still more popular than Sylvester had been, but excluding Will and Miss. Pillsbury, none of the staff went out of their way to talk to her.

Not unless they wanted something, anyway.

"Then make something up," Figgins had said with a theatrical wave of his arms. "They won't know the difference!"

Santana had never attended a parents evening before because her own parents had never really shown much of an interest in her education. They had always been too busy to go and talk to her teachers; which was probably for the best. There would only have been so many times her parents could listen to her teachers talk about how she had potential but didn't really apply herself before they became annoyed.

In any case, Santana had finally been coerced into agreeing not only to speak to her Cheerios' parents, but she had also for some reason agreed to get the Cheerios to do one of their routines at the beginning of the night.

As everyone was leaving the staff room, Santana jumped up and chased Mr. Schue down the hall.

"Mr. Schue," she called after him.

Will stopped and turned around with a raised eyebrow.

"Will, I mean," Santana amended. He smiled. "I have an idea for parents evening that I want your help with."

* * *

Dianne was tired by the time they made it to Cheerios practice on Friday. It had been a long week and it wasn't even over yet. This morning they had been given a pop quiz in Spanish and Dianne had barely understood the questions; let alone knew how to answer them. Teachers should be forced to give a warning before giving them pop quizzes. How could they possibly be expected to do well otherwise?

As usual, Coach Lopez wasn't there when she arrived. She was never there early; always arrived bang on time. It was annoying, really. Almost as annoying as the way she kept forgetting Dianne's name. It was just plain rude. Didn't that woman know who she was? Obviously not.

Despite Satan herself not being there, her little fan club had arrived and were sitting in there usual spot in the bleachers. It was surprising really. Their coach didn't really seem like the type to have friends; much like Sue Sylvester. Her daughter was there again today. Or step daughter maybe. She didn't look much like Lopez, except for maybe the dark eyes. Well, whatever. It wasn't like it mattered. She was with Rachel Berry and Finn Hudson again. Mmm. Finn Hudson.

"Hey, guys," said Dianne when her three friends approached her. Charlotte and Julia responded with cheerful hellos of their own; Christina simply stared off into the distance. Dianne rolled her eyes. Christina was just like that sometimes. She had some of the worst mood swings Dianne had ever seen in a person. It was really annoying. She was tall and scary though and that made her useful to have around.

"How long do you think Coach is gonna keep us later?" said Julia anxiously. They had to practice twice on a Friday when they didn't have one on Saturday, and unfortunately this was only their lunch hour practice. "I have a date tonight."

"With who?" Charlotte asked.

"I don't remember his name," said Julia with a shrug. "Some guy on the football team."

Dianne pulled a face. She wasn't exactly as celibate as her reign over the celibacy club would suggest, but at least she knew the names of the guys she slept with.

"I thought you were with that dude on the basketball team?" said Christina with a little confusion.

"Nah," replied Julia dismissively, "I dumped him ages ago. And told you about it like…four times."

"She did," Dianne confirmed. "You really should start paying more attention."

Before Christina could reply, the gates of hell were thrown open and Satan was striding towards them with her usual expression of distaste. Would it kill the woman to smile sometimes?

"Apricot," said Lopez, pointing at Dianne. "Warm up. Go."

"It's Apple…" said Dianne half-heartedly, but Lopez had already wandered off to talk to her little following. Bitch.

For a while, practice went fairly well. As much as she hated to admit it, Satan was a pretty good coach; some of the younger students learnt faster with her than they ever had with Sue. Dianne guessed it helped that Lopez could actually perform the moves in the routines which was a definite advantage for demonstrations.

After the success of 'Ray of Light', Lopez had chosen another Madonna song and had promised them that when they performed it for the final time, she was going to get a couple of live singers. Dianne wasn't quite sure how that was going to work, but she really loved 'Four Minutes' so she wasn't going to complain. Not that it would make much of a difference if she did. Satan didn't like to acknowledge her existence for some reason.

They were given a ten minute break and Dianne flopped down on the ground and most of the other cheerleaders imitated her.

"You could put a bit more effort in, you know," said Christina to her quietly. "I think you're pissing off Lopez."

Dianne and Christina glanced at their coach, but she was sat on one of the chairs playing with her cell phone and wasn't listening to them. Dianne briefly wondered who she was texting.

"So what?" replied Dianne.

Christina looked unimpressed. "Whatever. If she kicks you off the squad, don't come crying to me."

"She's not going to kick me off the squad," said Dianne haughtily.

"She kicked Cheryl and Kate out," Julia remarked.

A scowl crossed Dianne's face. "Yeah, I know. That stupid bitch completely overreacted. Jessica Potter deserved to be tied to that goalpost purely for being so damn annoying."

Christina didn't look like she agreed but she just shrugged her shoulders. "The point is, she _will_ kick you out if you don't start trying harder."

"We're not supposed to kill ourselves, are we?" said Dianne.

"No, but we're supposed to try," said Charlotte reasonably. Dianne frowned and Christina laughed lightly.

"I think she'd like that," Dianne finally said. Yep. Coach Lopez would probably be happier if the Cheerios weren't there at all.

"That's not fair, Dianne," said Christina with a roll of her eyes. "Just because she didn't want to join your fan club does _not_ mean she's a bad person."

"Sorry," said Dianne slyly. "I didn't mean to be nasty about your new BFF."

"Don't be ridiculous," Christina snapped.

"Really?" Dianne pushed. "'cause you still haven't told me what she said to you in her office the other day."

"Yes I did," said Christina stiffly. No, she'd told them some rubbish story about how she'd been told off because her timing was wrong. Dianne knew for a fact that she was lying; Christina's timing was _never_ off.

"You're such a–"

"What do you think is wrong with her?" said Charlotte interrupted. The three girls looked at her curiously.

"Who?" asked Christina, seeming grateful for the change of subject.

"Coach, of course," said Charlotte.

Dianne looked over to the bleachers. Lopez was now leaning against one of the barriers, flipping her phone open and closed and glaring at it as though willing it to burst into flames.

"Intense sexual frustration?" Julia guessed.

"That's disgusting," said Dianne with a grimace.

Julia shrugged. "Everyone else she's _ever_ known seems to have been here at least once." She nodded her head in the direction of the two adults and child sat in the bleachers today. "She's married but I haven't ever seen her husband around."

Before Dianne could express how deeply disturbing she found this conversation, the woman in question had stood up and was gesturing for the cheerleaders to get to work again. With only a little reluctance, Dianne got to her feet and led her squad into the next routine.

Ten minutes later, when a mysterious woman appeared beside the bleachers, Dianne couldn't help but notice of her. She wasn't exactly dressed in a way that Dianne would call normal, and yet the clothes seemed somehow familiar to her. She was wearing tight fitting black trousers and a kind of black corset with what appeared to be a strappy white top underneath it. The most bizarre aspect of her appearance, however, was probably the random blue collar and black tie combination she was wearing along with a black fedora.

The woman glanced at them for a moment but then her eyes came to rest on their coach and a wide, childlike smile captured her face. Satan didn't even notice; she was too busy telling a few of the Cheerios that they would never amount to anything if they couldn't perfect three simple handsprings. The woman simply stood and watched for about five minutes.

Dianne had all but lost interest in their mysterious visitor when she began to creep towards Lopez, being careful to stay out of the other woman's eye line. In what felt like and age, she finally was stood directly behind her. Dianne saw their coach frown as though she were confused about something, but she kept talking to them about…something; Dianne wasn't really listening. Then the woman took a step forward and Lopez began to stutter her words nervously…what the hell? When she put her hands on Satan's shoulders, her face flushed red; and then the most peculiar thing happened.

* * *

Santana could smell the perfume before anything else. It was so distinctly..._Brittany_. She felt her breath catch in her throat but continued to force out words to the Cheerios. Then there were hands on her shoulders and Santana froze. The cheerleaders were looking at her now as though she were growing a second head; she barely noticed as the grip on her shoulders tightened and she felt herself being spun around.

Before she could react, Brittany's lips crashed against her own. After a moment of shock, she began to automatically respond. Brittany's hands trailed down to encircle Santana's waist and somewhere in the back of her mind, a voice was telling her how wildly inappropriate they were being. _Ha_. Like she cared.

All too soon, Brittany bit down gently on Santana's bottom lip and then pulled away with a giggle. Santana was speechless. And why on earth was she wearing the outfit from the Britney Spears 'Me Against the Music' video?

"Mommy!" a voice cried out. Santana looked around just in time to see Callie throw herself into Brittany's arms. She picked the child up easily and swung her in the air and then pulled her in for a hug.

"I've missed you so much, baby," said Brittany, kissing the top of Callie's head.

"I've missed you too!" said Callie.

Brittany laughed and put her down; then she grasped her hand and looked back to Santana. She kissed her on the cheek and then winked. "I think it's time you got back to work," she said merrily. Then she and Callie literally _skipped_ away and sat in the front row of the bleachers.

It took Santana a moment to regain what little she had left of her senses. What the _hell_ had just happened?

The Cheerios were gaping at her and Santana concealed a groan. Fan-frigging-tastic.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **YAY Brittany! I wasn't going to bring her back until the next chapter but I caved to the peer pressure. I've never caved to peer pressure in my life. I hope you're happy!

Also, from now on I think I'm planning on updating every Wednesday and Sunday. Just so you know.

Thank you for reading :-)


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s):** Thank you all so much for the kind reviews; they make my day. I'm glad you're happy that Brittany is finally back. Hope you enjoy this update.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 6_

It had been the longest half an hour of Santana's life. In the end she'd cancelled the evening's practice, cut the current one short and sent the Cheerios on their merry way; only after telling them they'd have to work twice as hard next week to make up for the extra time they'd missed though. That piece of information had been very well received, just as Santana had imagined it would be.

She waited until all the Cheerios had disappeared from sight until she finally walked over to her wife and daughter. She really didn't want to make a scene in front of her students. _Another_ scene, that was. It was difficult to say who was more embarrassed by her earlier display; her or the baffled looking cheerleaders. Damn that Brittany Pierce-Lopez and her ability to make Santana forget where she was.

Callie was sat on Brittany's knee, curled into the woman's body. She looked like she was sleeping. Santana took a moment to enjoy the view; it was adorable. Confusion hit her again and she gazed at Brittany in bewilderment.

"Britt? What the-? Why are-? Just…what?" Santana stuttered at her wife. She was finding it difficult to gather her thoughts coherently.

"Come on, San," said Brittany playfully, "You're supposed to be good at the words. What are you asking me?"

"What on earth are you doing here?" said Santana finally.

"Ah," said Brittany knowingly, "Can't I come and visit my wife sometimes?"

"Well…yeah," said Santana with a frown, "But–"

"Just leave it for now, San," said Brittany, stroking Callie's hair, "We can talk about it tonight."

"You're staying tonight then?" said Santana. She tried not to sound too hopeful.

Brittany's eyes sparkled. "I have to. It's bad luck to fly twice on a Friday."

God, Santana had missed those wacky little statements. Though Brittany had grown up a lot over the years, Santana was intensely thankful she still held that childlike belief in the most random of untrue facts. It was one of the many things she loved about the occasionally ditzy blonde.

Before Santana could express her pleasure, Rachel and Finn decided to finally put in an appearance. She suspected they had been holding back to give the family some time to talk first, and for that she was very grateful. Pushy and domineering though Rachel was, she at least had a bit of tact when it was needed. At least, now she did. The same could not have been said for the high school years.

"Hello, Brittany," said Rachel. "It's lovely to see you."

Brittany smiled at her and waved to Finn. "You too, Rach. How are things?"

"Life is excellent," said Rachel, sounding surprised that Brittany considered the possibility it could be otherwise. "I have an interview for the new production of Wicked soon."

"She does," Finn confirmed. "We've been running lines for it all week…" Poor guy.

"Really?" said Brittany, her brows furrowed in confusion. "I thought you were already in Wicked?"

"The stage version, yes," said Rachel, waving her hand as though it were trivial. "This is a film."

"Are you gonna be in a film, Aunt Rachel?" Callie asked suddenly. "Like…in the cinema?"

"Most probably," said Rachel confidently. "With my skills and experience, they would be foolish not to hire me."

"Is Uncle Finn gonna be in it too?" the child asked. Santana bit back a laugh at the frown on Rachel's face.

"Nah," said Finn, smiling at Callie. "I'm too busy being on TV and stuff."

Callie thought about this and then looked at Rachel with awe. "Can I go and see it? On the big screen?"

"Of course you can," said Rachel seriously. "How could I say no to my biggest fan?"

The girl clapped and giggled.

"Hey…I thought I was your biggest fan?" said Finn with a mock pout.

Rachel made a show of patting Finn on the head. "Of course you are, darling," she said exaggeratedly, then she turned her back on her husband and shook her head and pointed at Callie with a wink. Callie and Brittany laughed while Finn adopted a faux sulky expression.

"Anyway," Rachel said, looking pointedly at Santana, "I was wondering if you'd allow us to look after Callie tonight?"

Santana felt her eyes widen in surprise. "Really?"

Rachel nodded in the affirmative. "Finn and I were discussing it and we think it would be excellent practice for when we have our own children."

The look on Finn's face at this declaration was priceless; it suggested he had taken no part in the conversation that Rachel was alluding to. His mouth opened and closed in a manner very similar to that of a demented goldfish. If Santana hadn't been so appreciative of the offer, she would have laughed in his face.

"We could have a girly sleepover," Rachel continued, talking directly to Callie now. The girl looked up at Brittany with question in her eyes. Santana knew this was going to be a hard decision for Callie to make. She hadn't seen her mommy in a long time, but she hardly ever saw her cool Uncle Finn and less cool Aunt Rachel.

"Don't worry, Cal," said Brittany, placing a gentle kiss on the girl's head. "I promise we can spend the whole weekend together if you want to go to the sleepover tonight."

Callie's eyes lit up with excitement. "Yes, please."

Brittany laughed while Santana mouthed a big 'thank you' to Rachel. The woman simply smiled and nodded; she knew how much it meant to Santana.

"Wait," said Santana suddenly, "You're staying for the whole weekend?"

The sad smile Brittany shot her was unexpected. Had she sounded a little too desperate? And at what point had she become the needy one in their relationship? No. Who did she think she was kidding? Santana had always needed Brittany more than Brittany had needed her. It was just the way they worked.

"Yeah, San," said Brittany. "I am."

"That's…good," replied Santana. There was an awkward pause.

"Er…Brittany?" said Finn, breaking the tension.

"Yeah?"

"Why are you wearing that?" Finn asked, perplexed.

Brittany looked down at herself and seemed oddly surprised. "I wanted to look hot," she said, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You look hot in most things," Rachel pointed out. Brittany beamed at her and Santana had to stifle a laugh.

"Thanks, Rach! I'm married though."

"No," said Rachel, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. "What I meant was that you didn't have to wear such extravagant clothes."

Keeping her mouth firmly closed, Santana refrained from explaining to Rachel that Brittany most certainly did not know what the word 'extravagant' meant. Brittany seemed to be able to guess though.

"I know, but last time I wore this, me and San had like…the best s–"

"Brittany!" Santana cut her off quickly. "Too much information." Brittany frowned.

Looking a little green, Rachel clapped her hands together and glanced at Finn nervously. "Anyway," she said, "Finn and I will pick up Callie after school, yes?" Santana nodded at her gratefully. Then Rachel turned back to Brittany, "And what are your plans for the rest of the day?"

Brittany looked thoughtful. "I was hoping me and Cal could just hang around here for a bit. It's been ages since I saw McKinley."

"It's really weird being back here," said Finn, looking wistfully at the football field before them. So many things had happened at this school. Good and bad. Brittany nodded and held Callie closer to her. Santana had a feeling they were all thinking the same thing.

"Good choice," said Rachel to Brittany, choosing not to respond to Finn's musings. "I think Finn and I must be going now though. We're on to Act Two, Scene Three now and I need to rehearse."

They all said goodbye and Rachel and Finn left them alone.

Santana sat down on the chair next to Brittany and their pinkies automatically linked together. They sat in silence for a while and just enjoyed the closeness. It had been too long since they had been together as a family and Santana wanted to draw it out for as long as possible; but she knew she couldn't.

"I'm going to have to go back to work," she said heavily after a while. "I have a stack of paperwork to do and a gym class I promised Figgins I'd take while one of the teachers is away." Plus she had to call one of her clients and tell them they hadn't won the role in the new James McAvoy movie. That was going to be fun. She'd spent most of the morning getting him a guest staring role in some comedy show she couldn't remember the name of to make up for it.

The pressure on her little finger increased for a second, and then Brittany released her.

"That's okay," said Brittany. "Me and Cal have a lot of catching up to do, don't we?"

Callie nodded and continued to snuggle against Brittany.

Santana stood up and pressed a brief kiss to Callie's forehead. Then she pressed a much less brief kiss to Brittany's lips.

"Work, San?" Brittany reminded her after a moment.

Santana huffed. "Fine then." Stupid work. It ruined everything.

* * *

The girls seemed to have come to a silent but mutual agreement that they weren't going to discuss what had just happened until they were showered, changed, and out of the crowded Cheerios' locker room. Unusually silent, as they were, Dianne was actually able to hear what people were talking about around her for a change. The general consensus seemed to be that people were worried that Lopez had been secretly perving on them for the last couple of weeks. Personally, Dianne wasn't convinced. Okay, so the gay thing was really weird, but Lopez barely seemed to be interested in them at all, let alone _too_ interested.

In their eagerness, the four moved a lot faster than usual and were out and sat in the library in record time. Dianne decided they weren't going to bother with math class today because gossiping was a great deal more important.

"Well," said Christina, as they sat down. "That was unexpected."

"I would never have guessed she was a big les," said Dianne. "Her make-up is always flawless and I totally thought she would be sleeping with that dude with the mohawk."

"What does her make-up have to do with anything?" asked Charlotte blankly.

"Dykes aren't good at make-up," said Dianne knowledgably.

Charlotte frowned. "That's mean, D."

"And also not true," Christina added with distaste.

Julia was nodding along absently while typing furiously on her laptop. She pressed the enter button with relish and scanned the page in front of her.

"I've found her," she announced, turning her computer around so the other girls could see the screen. It was seriously ridiculous how good Julia was with technology. Dianne couldn't even begin to imagine where to start looking for someone on the internet without even knowing their name. It didn't even make sense.

"Brittany Susanne Pierce-Lopez," Christina read aloud, "Born in nineteen-ninety-four. Currently choreographer and head dancer to Britney Spears for her world tour…"

"That's a pretty long list," said Charlotte, eyeing the descriptions of all the artists their coach's…wife was it?...had worked with over the years.

"I guess that solves the debate of why Satan's 'husband' has never made an appearance in practice before now," said Christina dryly.

Julia spun her laptop back around and continued to type things into Google.

"The kid looks exactly like her," said Charlotte, "And did you hear her call her 'mommy'?"

"Ah-ha," Julia exclaimed. "Look at this."

She turned the laptop around again and Dianne looked at the page she had open with confusion.

"Is that the gay guy that's here sometimes?" asked Charlotte.

Julia nodded. "It says his name is Kurt Hummel. But look at this…"

She scrolled down past various photographs of people in an assortment of items of designer clothing. Dianne assumed they were made by Hummel, or else the website would have been incredibly odd. Eventually, Julia stopped on one of the photographs and Dianne looked at it closely.

"Wow," said Charlotte, sounding impressed.

The photograph was of their coach and Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez on what appeared to be their wedding day. Brittany was wearing a gorgeous white dress with white gloves that reached just past her elbow. Her hair was held up in a sparkling tiara with a few loose curls falling down the sides of her face. Dianne had to admit that she looked absolutely stunning. Beside the blonde stood Coach Lopez, but Dianne almost didn't recognise her. She wore a white, tightly fitted suit with just a white waistcoat underneath it. It wasn't the change of attire that threw Dianne though; it was the look on Lopez's face that made her look like a completely different woman. Dianne didn't think she'd ever seen anybody wear a look of such adoration before. The women were smiling at each other, showing off two sets of perfect, white teeth. It was an amazing photograph.

"She looks better with her hair down," said Julia. The other three girls nodded in agreement.

Julia took her laptop back and closed the lid. She had apparently decided that was enough stalking for one afternoon; at least, until Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez and her daughter wandered over to the table next to theirs and sat down. Stalking was firmly back on the table from that point onward. Dianne raised an eyebrow at her friends and they all withdrew books from their bags so they could pretend to be doing something.

"How do you think she got in?" Charlotte whispered.

"Maybe she was a student here too," Christina suggested. That made sense, Dianne thought.

The woman and little girl began to talk and Dianne hushed her friends and strained to listen. Maybe she could dig up some gossip. Perhaps gossip she could use to convince Lopez to actually remember her name. Yeah, that would be nice.

"So," the woman was saying, "Have you been looking after your mama for me?"

"Yeah," said Callie. Dianne knew that was her name because she'd heard Coach call her that enough times.

"Good," replied Brittany.

The girl paused and looked down. "But it makes Mama sad when you aren't here," she said.

"I know, Cal," said the woman heavily. "I know it does."

"She has bad dreams," said Callie. "I can hear her sometimes."

Out of the corner of her eye, Dianne saw the woman…Mrs. Pierce-Lopez…look at the girl with dismay.

"What do you mean, baby?" she said. There was a waver in her voice.

"Remember that time I woke up at night because of the monsters under my bed?" said the girl, looking around nervously as though the monsters were going to hear her. Brittany nodded slowly. "I think Mama is scared of the monsters under her bed too."

"What makes you think that?" Brittany questioned. Callie looked down and the woman grasped her hand and smiled weakly. "You can tell me, Cal. I won't tell your mama if you don't want me to."

The girl nodded and Dianne had to restrain herself from shifting closer to the pair. Damn her insatiable curiosity.

"She shouts sometimes when she's sleeping," said the girl quietly. "And one night I woke up when it was still dark and I went to the kitchen to get a drink because I was thirsty. When I went past Mama's door, I think she was crying, but when I went in she was still asleep."

The woman looked up at the ceiling and took in a deep, shaky breath. Dianne exchanged a surprised look with Christina. She definitely would not have pegged Satan for the nightmare type.

"Please don't tell her," said the girl fearfully. "She doesn't like it when I get up at night."

"Don't worry," she replied, "It can be our secret."

"Pinkie swear?" said the girl, holding out her hand. Brittany held out her pinkie and the two shook hands. Callie looked relieved, but Dianne was convinced that it was a promise the blonde wasn't going to keep.

After that, the child looked significantly happier and the two began to discuss the pros and cons of the reboot of Spongebob Squarepants. In other words, their conversation became much less interesting to Dianne and she became distracted by the book she had previously only been pretending to read.

* * *

Why was it that when Santana wanted time to go faster, it had the most maddening habit of slowing down to an unbearable speed? Despite the pile of work she had to do, Santana had spent most of her day wondering what Brittany and Callie were doing. It was truly distracting.

The day was drawing to a close, and Santana was finally beginning to wind down. She was glad she'd decided to cancel the Cheerios practice this evening because there was no way she would have been able to concentrate. How could she when she knew Brittany was wandering around wearing _that_ outfit? Which, when she thought about it, was massively inappropriate to be wearing around a school, but never mind.

_Knock knock. _

"Come in," said Santana without pausing her furious scribbling.

The door opened and even without looking up, Santana knew who it was. She smiled.

"Hey, Britt," she said warmly. "Where's Callie?"

"I left her with a few of the Cheerios in the library," replied Brittany.

Santana's head shot up. "You're not serious?"

With a short chuckle at the panicked look on Santana's face, Brittany nodded. "Don't worry. She'll be fine. They're all far to scared of you to do anything to Callie. Did you know that people are calling you Satan?"

"I've heard," said Santana dryly.

"Yeah, Cal is looking at one of the Thunderclaps because she wanted to see pictures of us when we were cheerleaders," said Brittany. "She'll be okay; I'm going back in a minute."

"You gave my Cheerios a copy of the Thunderclap we're in?" said Santana faintly.

Brittany looked surprised. "Yeah. Why?"

A beat. "Never mind, it doesn't matter," said Santana. Brittany had never really understood Santana's need to keep her reputation and was unlikely to start now. There was no point in rehashing old conversations. "What's up, Brittany?"

The smile was back. "I've come to tell you I'll pick you up tonight at eight."

"You'll pick me up?" asked Santana with narrowed eyes. "You're not coming home with me?"

"We're going on a date, Santana," said Brittany brightly. "I'll pick you up at eight. Wear something nice."

"Where are we going?" asked Santana, feeling a surge of excitement.

"Not telling," said Brittany with a mischievous wink. "Just make sure you're ready."

Brittany leaned over the desk and pressed a short, sweet kiss to Santana's lips. Then she left the room without another word.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **It's Brittany, bitch. Next Chapter: Date night :-) Thanks for reading.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **And here it is. That time again. As always, I'd like to thank the people who have read and reviewed the story so far. Knowing that people are enjoying it makes it worth writing; not that I wouldn't anyway, 'cause it's fun. Anyhow, enough of me rambling. Hope you enjoy Chapter 7.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 7_

Every aspect of her appearance had been checked, double checked, and then just to be on the safe side, triple checked. Brittany had told her to wear something nice and Santana didn't want to disappoint.

She glanced back in the mirror and inspected her dress critically. She'd only taken two with her to Lima so there hadn't really been many options when it came to deciding which one she was going to wear. The black dress was just a bit sexier than the red one, so Santana had considered choosing it; but Brittany always said she loved it when Santana wore red, so her new little dark red number had won out in the end. Besides, it made her boobs look perfect.

Her make-up had been fastidiously applied and Santana had tried about ten different hair styles before deciding on just leaving it down. The high ponytail she'd been sporting for the past two weeks had started giving her daily headaches. She struggled to imagine how she'd coped with it every single day of her schooling life. Oh wait. That's right. Santana Lopez was hardcore.

At eight o clock, bang on the dot, Santana heard her doorbell ring. In her haste to get to get to it, she almost knocked over the coffee table and then laughed at herself for her eagerness. She took a deep, calming breath before pulling the door open.

Brittany beamed at her and Santana suddenly felt as though she were walking on air.

"These are for you," said Brittany, holding out a bunch of red roses and a bottle of Santana's favourite wine.

"Thanks," said Santana with a delighted smile. She took the gifts from Brittany and gestured for her to come inside so she could put the flowers in some water.

As Santana made her way over the kitchen to see if she could find a vase, Brittany took her time to look around the living room.

"House is nice," she remarked. "Bit boring though."

"Yeah," said Santana, pulling a glass container from one of the cupboards and moving over to the sink to fill it with water. "Like I said, ours is way better."

"Our house is better than everyone's," replied Brittany fondly.

With a smile of agreement, Santana walked into the living room and set the flowers on the coffee table. Then she looked back at Brittany and felt her heart skip a beat. She was wearing a midnight blue dress that brought out her eyes fantastically. It was absolutely stunning.

"You're so beautiful," she said breathlessly. Brittany blushed and then looked down at what Santana was wearing; her blush deepened.

"So are you," Brittany replied nervously, which was ridiculous. What did she have to be nervous about? They'd been married for six years and had been together much longer than that.

Santana took a few steps forward and kissed Brittany lightly on the lips. She tried to pull away but Brittany wrapped her arms around her and pulled her in closer. The kiss went on.

And on…

And on…

…_and on_.

Brittany moaned into Santana's mouth and then pulled away suddenly. Santana had to make a conscious effort to slow down her shallow and erratic breathing.

"Uh…" said Santana, dazed and very aware of how flushed her face was. "Maybe we should just stay here tonight…"

"No," Brittany whined. "I have plans."

"Mmm. Yeah. Plans," said Santana, not really paying attention. "Whatever you want, Britt."

* * *

"I can't believe he stood me up," said Julia for the seventh time in less than thirty minutes.

"He stood you up?" said Christina, sounding surprised. "You should have said something earlier!"

Julia glared across the table. "That was uncalled for." Christina rolled her eyes.

The four girls had been sat in Breadsticks for the better part of half an hour pretending to decide on what to eat. When Julia had called them and told them about her lack of date, Dianne had cancelled her own with Jason and decided that they should all go for a girly night out instead. Besides, she had a craving for breadsticks that could not be denied. Jason hated breadsticks. Freak.

"Are we going to order soon?" Charlotte complained.

"No," said Dianne. "We're going to fill up on breadsticks, and then we're going to leave."

Charlotte looked deeply unhappy but Dianne ignored her. She should know by now how many calories were in one of the meals at this place. Coach would kill them. Coach Sylvester, that was. Lopez had never mentioned anything about their eating habits.

"Oh my God," said Julia.

"For Christ sake, Julia!" Christina snapped. "We get it. He stood you up. Give it a frigging rest!"

"That isn't what I was going to say," retorted Julia with a scowl. "Look who just walked through the door."

Dianne turned around and felt her mouth drop open. No way…

"That isn't…"

"It is," said Christina, though she didn't sound like she believed it.

At the entrance of Breadsticks, stood Coach Lopez and her wife. They were both completely overdressed for the location, but based on their seeming lack of awareness of what was going on around them, Dianne didn't think they cared. Lopez in particular seemed to be finding it difficult to hold a conversation with the guy trying to show them to their seats. It appeared to be with significant reluctance that the two women unlinked their hands to sit across from each other at their table.

The blonde woman snatched the tub of breadsticks from the table and Lopez pouted…_actually pouted_…at her. Brittany, as she had introduced herself to the girls earlier that day in the library, laughed loudly and shook her head.

"Hell appears to have frozen over," said Christina faintly as Brittany took one of the breadsticks and held it across the table for Lopez to take a bite from.

"They're making me want to vomit," added Julia bitterly.

"I think it's cute," said Charlotte benevolently. Dianne shot her a disgusted look and then went back to spying on her teacher.

* * *

"You should have told me we were coming here," said Santana, eyeing the breadsticks that Brittany was holding. "I could have brought my wheelbarrow."

Brittany laughed at the memory. "I forgot about that. I wonder if that woman ever got another job?"

"I'm sure she did," said Santana, not really caring.

"She was too smart to work here anyway," said Brittany, putting the bowl of breadsticks down just out of Santana's reach.

"What do you mean?" asked Santana, dragging her eyes from the food and gazing at her wife. She could barely remember the woman in question, let alone her level of intelligence.

"She told me how to make breadsticks once," Brittany explained. "I didn't really understand it...but you have to be super smart to remember recipes and stuff."

Santana smiled. "Yeah, Britt. I guess you're right. Maybe she bought a shop and uses it to sell the breadsticks she makes."

"Yeah! Maybe she can make cakes too. A shop that sells breadsticks and cakes would be awesome," said Brittany enthusiastically.

"We should keep an eye out for one," said Santana. "The world needs more breadsticks…and by 'the world', I mean me. Give me a damn breadstick, Brittany!"

With an evil cackle truly unbefitting of the incredibly sweet woman Brittany usually was, she seemed to ponder this for a minute. "I don't know, San. What if it spoils your dinner?"

"Are you going to withhold _everything_ from me today?" asked Santana with exasperation. She really wanted a damn breadstick.

"No," Brittany drawled. "Not _everything_. I'm just making sure you save room for desert."

"Thanks, _mom_."

Brittany frowned. "That's not very nice, San. You don't like your mother."

"Not liking her is a bit of an understatement, Britt," said Santana blandly, "I hate the woman."

"No you don't," said Brittany sadly.

Before Santana could respond to this, their waiter came over to take their order. She sat back while Brittany ordered a bottle of wine from the menu and two plates of spaghetti and meatballs. It wasn't what Santana would have chosen, but Brittany told her that it would be sick and wrong for them not to have it for their romantic reunion. Hadn't she seen Lady and the Tramp recently? Santana refrained from saying that yes, she had seen it recently. About a hundred times, as it was now one of Callie's favourite movies.

They waited until the waiter had brought over their wine and poured it into two glasses before continuing their conversation.

"Have you even called your mom since you got here?" asked Brittany. The look in her eyes let Santana know that Brittany knew full well that she hadn't.

"Why would I?" said Santana with a shrug. "It's not like she'll care I'm here."

"She might," Brittany pointed out.

Santana did not like where this conversation was going. It was supposed to be a happy day. Why were they ruining it with talk about her disinterested mother? The woman who refused to come to her wedding? The woman who couldn't even be bothered to call Santana back when she'd phoned to tell her that Brittany was having a baby? Yeah, that definitely sounded like someone she wanted to waste precious time with.

"She won't," said Santana.

"She might want to meet Callie," replied Brittany. "She's your daughter."

"I'm not going to subject our child to that woman," Santana argued. "Callie is too young to understand that her inane ramblings about how I'm a disappointment and going to hell should be ignored."

There was more anger behind her words than Santana had intended; she closed her eyes and tried to mentally reel herself back in. When she opened them again, Brittany was watching her solemnly. She held her hand across the table and Santana reached forward to grip Brittany's pinkie with her own. It made her feel a little better.

"All right then," Brittany relented. "You can have a breadstick."

"Oh yeah," said Santana triumphantly. "Victory is mine."

Brittany smiled at her with a little confusion and handed her a breadstick. She had never understood Santana's love for the foodstuff. Foolish…foolish woman.

For a while, they chatted away about everything and nothing. Shortly afterwards, the waiter came over with their meals and Brittany demonstrated that she did, in fact, still have the ability to push meatballs across the plate with her nose. Santana had been unable to stop herself from laughing, completely forgetting her earlier glumness, and wiping the sauce from Brittany's nose with her napkin.

"This all takes me back," said Santana, as they were finishing their meals.

"Yeah," Brittany agreed. "I didn't think we'd ever be back living in Lima."

"We're not living in Lima," Santana pointed out. "I'm not staying here for much longer."

"How much longer?" asked Brittany.

"I…don't actually know. Until Sue gets back, I guess," said Santana with a frown. "Hilary Clinton said it would probably be about a month and this is the end of the second week."

"Two more weeks isn't too bad," said Brittany, sounding a little hesitant.

"It's better now you're here," said Santana honestly. Then she smiled. "I'm so glad you've come."

"Yeah…" said Brittany, with a small catch in her voice. "I am too."

Santana put her final fork of spaghetti in her mouth and watched as Brittany picked up the bottle of wine on the table and split what was left between the two glasses.

"You trying to get me drunk?" said Santana with a wicked smile.

"Nah," said Brittany. "Don't need to. You're going to do whatever I want when we get home anyway."

Santana laughed. "Am I really?"

"Of course you are," said Brittany, looking mystified at the thought that things could be otherwise.

"We'll see," said Santana, as their waiter returned yet again to take their plates.

"Would you care to order desert?" asked the server. He couldn't have been more than eighteen, Santana thought with amusement.

"Yes," said Santana at the same time as Brittany said, "No."

Santana frowned. "I thought you said you wanted desert?"

"I do," Brittany confirmed. "I've already got it though."

"You've already…"

"Just the bill, please," said Brittany, cutting off Santana's pondering.

The waiter nodded with a raised eyebrow and left the table. Santana took a sip of her wine and regarded Brittany carefully. Something was amiss and she couldn't quite figure out what it was. She had realised that Brittany was keeping something from her from the moment they had begun to talk earlier in the day, but Santana had assumed Brittany would cave and tell her of her own accord pretty quickly. She'd never been good at keeping secrets before and Santana didn't think that would be changing anytime soon.

"You okay?" asked Brittany. "You look a bit…thinky."

"I'm fine, Britt," said Santana with a reassuring smile.

It was unsurprising that Brittany looked like she didn't believe her. The blonde was probably the only person in the world who could read Santana like a book.

Brittany sighed and looked down at her hands. "I think we need to talk, San,"

"About what?" said Santana. Brittany looked up at her with such unhappiness that Santana's heart began to ache. "I don't really see what there is to talk about," she continued in a more gentle voice. "I understand that you have a job to do; I know you can't stay here for very long."

"That isn't what I want to talk about," said Brittany. "Well," she amended, "Not _just_ what I want to talk about."

The tone of Brittany's voice clued Santana into the fact that she really wasn't going to like whatever it was her wife wanted to discuss; that and the sorrowful puppy dog look she was being treated to. For a few moments, neither of the women spoke.

"Can we wait until later?" said Santana finally, her voice low and pleading. "Please?"

A beat. "Okay, San. We can talk about it later."

"Thank you," said Santana, relieved.

"But there's something I need to tell you," Brittany continued guiltily.

"Oh God," said Santana before she could stop herself. "What happened? Did you do something bad? Did_ I_ do something bad? Are you leaving me?"

"What? No!" Brittany exclaimed. Santana clamped her mouth shut. "What makes you think that?"

Santana shrugged. "You're not really giving me much to work with here."

"Santana," said Brittany, reaching forward and taking Santana's hands in her own. "I'm never going to leave you. Even if you want me to."

"Yeah," said Santana softly. "I know that."

Brittany sighed. "I'm so sorry."

"Sorry for what?" she said, running her thumbs up and down Brittany's hands.

"I'm sorry for never being here," said Brittany heavily. "I'm sorry that for more than half of the last three years you've had to raise Callie by yourself. I'm sorry for leaving you alone for so long that you think I'm going to leave you."

"Britt…" said Santana, swallowing back tears.

"I quit my job."

"You…you did _what_?"

"I quit my job."

"You quit your job."

"Yeah...That's what I sa–"

"_You quit your job_."

"Santana…"

"Why?" she whispered.

"I miss you and Callie too much," said Brittany simply.

"But you love touring with Britney," Santana pointed out.

Brittany smiled sweetly at her. "But I love you more, silly."

* * *

Much to Dianne's displeasure, the four girls had ended up buying actual food. Charlotte had claimed that spying made her hungry, and once Christina had agreed, so had Julia and Dianne wasn't going to be the only one not eating.

After a while, Dianne had begun to feel a little sordid; gawking at their cheerleading coach was just creepy. During the course of their meal, they had watched Lopez flip between wild happiness and ill concealed misery multiple times. She was up and down like a yoyo. Every time she hit that low, Dianne began to feel more and more like a stalker. It wasn't that she felt guilty or anything, it was more to do with how unattractive her behaviour would seem to outsiders. Nobody is interested in the creeper who shadows her teachers. It's just plain bizarre. And not in the good way, either.

Dianne couldn't help but wish she'd heard whatever Brittany had just said to Lopez though. Lopez had stood up suddenly and pulled a few notes from her purse, which she threw down on the table without even checking to see how much money was there. Then she had grasped both of Brittany's hands and pulled her to her feet and into a passionate kiss that had almost everybody in the restaurant gaping in horror at them.

When they broke apart, the blonde looked absolutely astounded. She quickly recovered, however, when Lopez began to pull her away from the table and towards the exit. As they left the building, both women's clear laughter rang out into the night until the door closed behind them.

"I wonder what they're gonna be doing for the rest of the night," Christina remarked with a small smirk.

"I wonder if they'll even make it home," said Julia resentfully.

"There are some things that should never be shared with the general public," Dianne added faintly.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **And thus ends another chapter. I know there was a bit too much Cheerios in this one for a chapter that I intended to focus exclusively on Brittany/Santana, but I like writing about them from an outside perspective.

Nothing is annoying me more about Glee at the moment than the lack of Brittana continuity. Just saying.

Thank you for reading :-)


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s):** Hey, folks. I'm actually running out of ways to say 'thank you for reviewing, I love you' so yeah… Thank you to everyone who is still reading and especially to those who have taken the time to review. Not much happens in this chapter plot-wise; I just wanted to write a bit of family time. So, yep. Hope you enjoy Chapter 8.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 8_

"Oh God, Britt," said Santana breathlessly, rolling onto her back. An empty can of whipped cream lay discarded somewhere on the floor.

"I'm not an evil dwarf," said Brittany, equally flustered. Santana's brows knitted together in confusion, but she knew better than to question. "I've always thought I looked a little bit like Jesus though. You know…without the beard."

Santana laughed loudly and pulled Brittany closer to her. The blonde rested her head on Santana's chest and she inhaled deeply.

"It's been _far_ too long," said Santana, threading her fingers through Brittany's hair.

Brittany hummed in agreement and began to trace lazy shapes on Santana's stomach.

"I've missed you so much," Brittany mumbled. "Hotel rooms all start to look the same after a while."

"I've missed you too," replied Santana. She sighed. "So has Callie."

"Yeah?" said Brittany.

"Yeah," replied Santana. "We had a bit of a moment last week."

"A moment?" Brittany asked.

"Yeah," said Santana, a little reluctantly. "She got a bit tearful."

Brittany's hand stilled. "Why didn't you tell me?"

It took her a second, but Santana quickly decided to tell the truth. "I didn't want to upset you," she admitted. "I didn't think you'd be able to get away to come and visit so there didn't seem to be any point."

Brittany didn't respond straight away. "You should have told me."

Before Santana could protest, Brittany pulled away from her and lay down on her back. The room became inexplicably colder and Santana wished they hadn't pushed the covers off the bed earlier. She shivered a little as the cool night air hit her bare skin.

"Are you mad at me?" she asked quietly.

Brittany sighed. "No. I'm mad at me."

The sadness in her voice made Santana want to cry. "It's not your fault, Britt. You didn't know."

"I did," said Brittany unhappily. "I just didn't realise how much it was hurting you both."

Santana frowned. "I'm fine, Brittany."

"No you aren't," said Brittany, rolling over and burying her face in one of the pillows.

Santana was confused. She wasn't used to this kind of melancholy from Brittany. She only ever got like this when something was really wrong…or when she was pregnant…Santana was fairly confident that wasn't the reason though. Maybe she was already starting to regret quitting her job. Santana couldn't even find the words to express how much she hoped that was not the case.

She sat up and moved over to where Brittany was lying. Pulling her knees up to her chest to try and keep in some of her body heat, Santana placed her hand on Brittany's back and began to trace up and down her spine.

"Please talk to me," Santana begged. "What's wrong?"

"Stop being so nice to me," said Brittany, her voice muffled by the pillow.

"I can't," Santana pointed out, "Our friends get angry at me when I'm mean to you." Her attempt at humour was completely lost on Brittany, whose grasp on the cushion seemed to become tighter. Santana poked her sharply in the ribs. "Oi."

Brittany flinched and then raised her head to gaze at Santana, making her feel oddly vulnerable.

"Callie said you've been having nightmares."

Well…that was unexpected. Santana felt her eyes widen and she wrapped her arms around her shins. That must have been what she'd wanted to talk about at Breadsticks.

"I haven't," she said, far too quickly.

"Yes you have," said Brittany, her eyes searching. "You don't have to lie to me, Santana,"

Santana looked away. She couldn't believe her own daughter had snitched on her. What a little brat. And how had she even known? Oh god…had she been shouting in her sleep or something and woken Callie up? That was not good. If she had traumatised her child, Santana didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself.

"It's not a big deal," said Santana. "I used to get them all the time, remember?"

"Not recently though," Brittany pointed out. "Is it because we're back in Lima?"

When she didn't reply, Brittany sat up and wrapped her arms around Santana. Her breath caught in her throat and she leaned into her wife's embrace.

"Probably," Santana conceded. Brittany's grip tightened. "Being back at school…it's just…hard, I guess."

"That's understandable, San," said Brittany, resting her chin on the top of Santana's head.

"It's stupid," Santana corrected. "It was ages ago. I'm almost thirty years old now."

"It's not stupid," said Brittany. "You know that."

"Yeah…" mumbled Santana in reply, mainly to placate Brittany. "I'll be okay. Don't worry about it."

"I can't help it," said Brittany earnestly. "It's my job to worry about you. Besides," she added, "You've looked after me from the moment we met. I have to have a turn sometimes."

Santana chuckled lightly. "Okay. Are you gonna look after me then?"

"Totally," said Brittany, with a little more cheer. "I'm gonna chase those bad dreams away with like…rainbows and stuff."

"You'd better," said Santana, allowing her arms to drop and placing her hand on Brittany's thigh. She felt Brittany shiver and smirked.

"San," Brittany whined as Santana let her hand trail gently upwards.

"What?" asked Santana innocently.

"Stop trying to…ugh…distract me…" Brittany muttered, squirming away from Santana's touch. Santana laughed.

"Why don't you make me?"

* * *

Rachel and Finn dropped Callie off in the morning, so Santana had invited them to stay for breakfast.

She pottered around the kitchen making waffles for the group as Rachel and Finn filled Brittany in on their night time shenanigans with Callie. Santana very much hoped Brittany didn't decide it necessary to reciprocate. It wouldn't have been the first time she had decided to divulge inappropriate details of their sex life to random people. Santana remembered one particular time in school when Kurt and Mercedes had been looking at an article on sex positions in Cosmopolitan. Brittany had walked up behind them and explained to them in graphic detail why one of the positions was nearly impossible and had proceeded to tell them how Santana had almost broken her arm when they had tried it. Santana wasn't sure whether she, Kurt or Mercedes had been more mortified by that informative little tale.

"So, how was your evening?" Rachel asked Brittany as Santana walked in the room with a plate piled high with tasty breakfast food.

"Oh, you know," replied Brittany with a shrug. "It was okay."

Santana cleared her through loudly and Callie, who was sat on Brittany's knee, looked up at her nervously.

"It was _okay_?" Santana repeated incredulously.

Brittany looked up at her with mischief in her eyes. "Yeah." She pressed a kiss to Callie's forehead. "Without my baby here it can't have been that good, could it?"

Callie giggled as Santana put a hand on her hip. "Right. No waffles for you."

"Aw, but San!" Brittany protested, her infamous pout coming into play.

"That's mean, Santana," Rachel agreed. "How can you say no to that face? Even I want to give her waffles despite not actually having any."

Santana ignored them and moved to put the plate on the coffee table next to her flowers. She then went to fetch plates and some maple syrup, even though she knew full well there would be hardly any waffles left by the time she got back.

Sure enough, Finn seemed to have already shoved two of them down his throat when she re-entered the room. Brittany, however, was sat next to the plate and looking at her with big, sad eyes. Callie stood to the side and giggled manically.

"Oh, all right," said Santana with a theatrical sigh. "You can have some waffles. Only because I really love those roses though."

"Why don't you ever buy me roses?" asked Rachel, turning to Finn with an unhappy look on her face.

The 'deer caught in headlights' look looked truly at home on Finn's face as he struggled for an answer. "Um…" he said, spraying half chewed waffle in Rachel's general direction. She pulled a face of disgust.

"Not everyone can be as awesome as me," Brittany pointed out as she poured liberal amounts of syrup on the waffle on her plate. "I'm like a super spouse."

"In that case 'super spouse'," said Santana, "You can wash the dishes when we're done."

"Can't Callie do it?" asked Brittany, nodding her head in their daughters direction.

"No, silly," said Callie, shaking her head in protest. "I can't reach the sink."

"The girl can't reach the sink, Brittany," said Santana in agreement. "Come on. You need the practice now that you're going to be a housewife."

"What's this about Brittany being a housewife?" asked Rachel, very quickly picking up on Santana's choice of words. Santana cringed. Ooops. She and Brittany had wanted to tell Callie about her quitting her job later; preferably when they had less of an audience. Brittany looked at her and Santana nodded.

"I've quit my job," said Brittany.

Rachel looked stunned.

"I thought you loved working with Britney Spears," said Finn with a frown.

"I did," said Brittany enthusiastically. "It's just…I'd prefer to be here, ya know? Well…not _here_ here. At home."

"What do you mean, mommy?" asked Callie in a small voice.

"I think it's time for us to go, Finn," said Rachel quickly. She grasped her husband's hand and pulled him to his feet.

"What are you–"

"Now," said Rachel firmly. She then turned to Santana. "Thank you for the waffles."

"No problem," replied Santana, not really listening.

As Rachel and Finn left the house, Brittany sat down on the couch and gestured for Callie to sit next to her. Callie bounded over and sat herself as close to Brittany as possible without actually sitting in her lap. Santana sat down on the opposite end of the sofa and turned to face Brittany and their daughter.

"Cal," Brittany began, "You know how I'm away all the time because I'm a dancer for singers when they're travelling around?"

"Yeah," said Callie, "You dance with Britney Spears."

"That's right," said Brittany with a small smile. "Well, I've decided that I don't want to be away anymore. I don't want to be a dancer anymore if it means I have to be away from you and your mama all the time."

It took Callie a moment to process this. She looked at Santana and Santana smiled at her encouragingly.

"You mean you're not going to go away anymore?" asked Callie finally.

"That's right, baby," said Brittany.

"You're going to come home with me and Mama?" said Callie. She didn't really sound like she believed it and Brittany's eyes glazed over. Santana had to fight the urge to shuffle over and comfort her wife.

"Yeah, Cal. I'm gonna come home with you and I'm going to stay there," said Brittany slowly.

"Forever?" Callie asked, looking down at the ground.

"Forever."

"Do you promise?" said Callie doubtfully.

Brittany looked at Santana, dismay written across her face. She didn't understand why Callie didn't trust her.

"Please look at me, Cal," said Brittany, taking her daughter's hands in her own. Callie immediately responded and looked up to meet Brittany's eyes. "I promise."

Santana really hadn't expected Callie to burst into the tears. It was like…the opposite reaction to the one she had predicted. Nevertheless, Callie threw herself into Brittany's arms and began to sob heavily. Brittany shot Santana a panicked look but instinctively began to stroke the girl's hair and make soothing noises. Santana watched them uncomprehendingly for a minute.

"This is a good thing, baby," said Brittany into Callie's hair.

"She knows, Britt," said Santana, snapping out of her stupor. "I think she's just a bit overwhelmed."

Brittany nodded and relaxed a little. Obviously she had thought that the prospect of her being home all the time had moved Callie into a state inconsolable misery. Santana stood up and placed a comforting hand on Callie's back.

"I'm going to wash the dishes," she said to Brittany. "Fix her or I'm gonna be really annoyed when I get back."

Brittany chuckled lightly. Mission accomplished.

* * *

Their weekend passed mostly without incident. Kurt had a little get-together at his father's home on Saturday evening and almost the entire Glee club showed up for it. The only person missing had been Sam because he hadn't been able to get away from work. Even Mike Chang had come and he and Brittany had spent almost the entire night talking about their careers. He was currently on tour with some new singer that Santana had never heard of. Before that, however, he had been a dance teacher in a studio near where he lived with his girlfriend in New York. Brittany had looked very thoughtful after he had told her that, and Santana had a feeling she knew why.

After dinner, Brittany told all their friends about how she'd left her job so she could stay at home. While everyone clamoured around Brittany to question her, Kurt sidled up to Santana and smiled at her.

"How happy are you right now?" he asked quietly.

"You have no frickin' idea," said Santana, a wide smile stealing across her face. The kind of smile that makes your face hurt.

"I do," said Kurt simply.

This was when Puck chose to mooch over to them. He tried to ruffle Kurt's hair but was batted away by furious hands.

"Hey there, Lopez!" said Puck, sitting himself unceremoniously on Santana's lap.

"Ow," said Santana, trying to push him off her. Instead, he managed to throw his legs up so they where lying across Kurt's. "What do you think you're doing, Puckerman?"

"I've come to say hello to my favourite gays," said Puck. For some reason, he seemed to be somewhat drunker than everyone else in the room.

Kurt made a noise of disapproval and he and Santana shared a look of exasperation.

"And how are you, Noah?" said Kurt reluctantly. No amount of Glee club bonding was ever going to make Kurt and Puck become friends. They were just too different.

"Oh, ya know," said Puck mindlessly. "I'm good. Did I tell you I have a new girlfriend?"

"You didn't," said Kurt.

"Her name is Joanne."

"I'll alert the media," Santana deadpanned.

"The Puckasaurus doesn't think you're funny, Lopez," said Puck, shuffling into a more comfortable position.

"You're seriously crushing me, Puck," said Santana as he shifted all of his weight onto one of her thighs.

"You never used to mind," Puck remarked. Santana's face contorted into an expression of revulsion.

"My daughter is at the other side of this room," said Santana. She poked him hard in the side and he flinched. "Stop being so disgusting."

Puck laughed loudly and rolled off her and onto the floor. He jumped up and rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

"That was…intentional."

"Sure it was," said Santana, not really caring. He then spotted Quinn sitting down in one of the armchairs with Dominic and made a beeline towards her. Some things never changed.

Before the end of the night, Rachel produced some sheet music as if from nowhere and dragged Kurt over to the piano. "We're the Glee club!" she had said to them before instructing the group to reel out a varied selection of their greatest hits from back in the day. Kurt had run off and come back with an electric guitar, which had been handed to a very pleased looking Artie. Naturally, Rachel had given herself a wide assortment of solos, but nobody complained because it just wouldn't have been the same without her trying to monopolise their makeshift stage. Rachel and Kurt sang Defying Gravity together, which Santana was convinced Rachel had picked just so she could slip in the news about her upcoming interview for the movie 'Wicked'.

Everyone, with the exception of Rachel and Mercedes, were out of practice at singing and performing, so their songs didn't sound as good as they had done when they were back in school. That, and the acoustics in Kurt's sitting room weren't exactly up to the quality of their auditorium. It felt good to sing again with the old group though, and Callie seemed to be having fun.

They decided to end the impromptu performance with the traditional Journey medley. Finn and Rachel sang 'Faithfully' and then they all sang their 'Anyway You Want It' and 'Lovin' Touchin' Squeezin'' mashup. Brittany and Mike took the floor and danced along to the music; Santana thought they looked amazing. They finished with Don't Stop Believing. Everyone appeared a little teary eyed after that one, but it was a fact that wasn't mentioned.

Quinn, Tina and Artie were the first to leave. Dominic had begun to cry and Tina had given her a lift over to Kurt's house, so they left as a group. Without the baby there for everybody to fawn over, Callie had quickly become the centre of attention. After being piggy-backed around the house by 'Uncle Puck', she and Kurt had decided to criticise what everybody in the room was wearing and were talking about what they could have done to improve their outfits.

Brittany, who had been talking to Finn and Rachel, strolled over and sat herself down next to Santana.

"You having a good night?" asked Santana, as Brittany rested her head on Santana's shoulder.

"Yeah," said Brittany happily. "I've missed this."

"Me too," said Santana, snaking her arm around her wife. "I haven't had more than a couple of days off work in months. I think I'd forgotten what it feels like to relax."

"Er…you're still working, San?" said Brittany, shooting her a confused look.

"I guess so," Santana accepted. "Coaching the Cheerios a couple of hours a day doesn't really feel much like work though."

"Maybe we should stay here then," said Brittany with a mischievous grin.

"Oh yeah. Like that's gonna happen," replied Santana with an eye roll. "I did not escape this hole just to come crawling back for a job that pays about half of my usual salary. No thank you."

Brittany smiled teasingly at her and placed a kiss on Santana's cheek.

At the other end of the room, Puck had fallen asleep and was snoring loudly. It was highly unattractive. Santana struggled to understand what she had ever seen in that boy. Well…no. She knew what it was. Sometimes, on the rare occasion when he wasn't being a complete and utter tool, Puck was a good guy. Emphasis on the word 'rare'.

Santana jumped a little when Callie suddenly appeared out of nowhere and climbed onto her knee. Brittany shot her a concerned look, which Santana actively ignored.

"Hey, sweetie," said Santana, wrapping her free arm around her daughter.

"Uncle Kurt says he's gonna teach me how to play the piano!" said Callie, excitement obvious in her face.

"That's awesome, Cal," said Brittany.

Callie nodded and leaned back to rest her head on Santana and she rolled her eyes. At what point had she become a human leaning post?

"You know, Santana," said Rachel conversationally. "Out of all of us, I never thought you and Brittany would be the first to start a family."

"Your confidence in me is overwhelming, Berry," said Santana dryly, well aware of how domestic she looked at that very moment.

Rachel's smile dimmed and Santana wondered what she was thinking.

"You are kind of like a soccer mom now," said Finn.

"It's a big change from the bitch that strolled around McKinley like she owned the place," Mercedes added.

"I was not that bad," Santana replied half-heartedly. She had been worse and they all knew it.

"Once you tried to punch me in the face because you thought I'd stolen your granola bar," said Mercedes, her arms folded and her face annoyed. "Which I hadn't, by the way."

Santana would have shrugged if her arms weren't otherwise occupied. "Yeah, well…I probably hadn't eaten in about six days. Unlike _some_ people, I actually stuck to Sue Sylvester's harebrained diet plans." Brittany poked her in the leg and Santana made a conscious effort to reel in the mean.

"And a lot of good it did you," Mercedes snapped.

"Didn't do us any harm in the long run," replied Santana disinterestedly. "Not that I'm going to be encouraging any of the Cheerios to follow them. I'm not insane; unlike Sue Sylvester. Have you ever been to her house?" Everyone shook their head. "I went the other day to pick up some papers and she has literally knocked through one of her walls and replaced it with a wall of trophies all stacked up in a row. It was like walking into the Twilight Zone."

"That woman has problems," said Mercedes, shaking her head in bewilderment.

"I think we already knew that," Rachel pointed out. Santana could feel Brittany nod in agreement.

They chatted aimlessly for another few minutes before Brittany nudged Santana and she looked down. Callie was fast asleep.

"Guys," said Brittany in a soft voice. "I think it's time for us to go." She indicated the sleeping girl on Santana's lap.

Brittany picked up Callie, allowing Santana to stand up and stretch and then they said good bye to everyone.

Before they left, Kurt pulled Santana into a hug and whispered how happy he was for her in her ear. She laughed and kissed him on the cheek.

"You're such a sap," she said fondly.

Then she and Brittany went home.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I don't have anything else to say, 'cause it's late and I'm sleepy. Hope everyone had a good weekend and thank you for reading :-)

ETA: I haven't actually beta'ed this yet because I've been away for a few days and haven't had time, so if anyone spots any glaring errors I'd be much obliged if you could point them out. Thanks!


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s):** Hey, folks. As always, many thanks for reading this far and to those who reviewed!

I have a couple of things to say, the first being: I am English, and thus all my knowledge of American high schools comes from watching re-runs of Sabrina the Teenage Witch about ten years ago. So, when I start rambling on about parents evening, I'm very sorry that it's most likely completely wrong. What we do here is just have all the teachers milling around in their respective classrooms and you can either book a five minute appointment with them a few days before or just go and talk to them on the night with your parents, so that's what I've gone with.

To the people who have enjoyed this fic so far because it's a break from the angst currently flooding the site and to the person who said this is possibly one of the more normal Brittany/Santana fics here: I'm sorry.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 9_

On Monday, Santana held her first practice with the entire Glee club present. The current Glee club, that was, not _her_ Glee club. It hadn't taken much persuading, but Santana had convinced Will that the Glee kids should sing a number for the Cheerios to do a routine to at parents evening. The Glee club were ecstatic about it; the Cheerios…not so much. Under threats of ten laps around the track though, the cheerleaders refrained from vocalising their very strong opinions on the matter.

"That went well," said Will, as the two groups of teens trudged away in opposite directions.

"Sue is going to be furious when she finds out," said Santana. An amused smirk crossed her face.

Tuesday came and went, and Santana realised that she was going to have to replace the two Cheerios she had evicted soon or they were going to have to re-jig half of the routines to accommodate their absence.

On Wednesday, she held try-outs in the gym for new members. All the Cheerios attended; Santana assumed it was to scare away anyone they didn't approve of. Namely, the Glee club and their ilk.

Both the cheerleaders she'd kicked off the team tried-out, but Santana had told them that under no circumstance would she allow them back on the squad. One of them burst into tears while the other one seemed on the verge of attacking Santana. She wasn't particularly worried though. She was pretty confident she could take both of them if anything resolved to violence. Not that she was supposed to fight with students. Figgins had assured her that bloodshed was a big no-no in the teaching world.

Santana buried her head in her hands in despair. She had one possible, but the rest had been absolutely dreadful. One girl had actually knocked herself out with a baton and Santana had had to carry her to the nurse's office.

"Next!" she called, not looking up.

There was a smattering of giggling from the girls behind her. _Oh what fresh hell is this?_

"Hi!" said the person in front of her. Santana's head shot up. "I'm Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez and I'm here to try out for the Cheerios."

Brittany was wearing her old Cheerios uniform, which still fitted perfectly, and was positively beaming at Santana. The cheerleaders' laughter grew a little louder.

"What in the name of sanity are you doing?" said Santana, putting down her clipboard. She spotted Callie sitting herself down next to one of the Cheerios. "Why do you even have that uniform with you?"

"Stop ruining my audition, Santana!" replied Brittany. She put down the CD player she had been carrying and pressed play. The song 'Thriller' filled the room.

Not that Santana expected anything less, but Brittany's dance routine was absolutely flawless. She combined some of the original dance moves along with some traditional cheerleading ones and it looked amazing. The laughter from behind her quickly became an awed silence and Santana smirked a little. Brittany ended her routine with a few handsprings and then a back flip before sliding down into the splits. Everyone in the room burst into noisy applause and while Santana desperately tried to ignore the hot flush creeping up her cheeks.

Brittany got to her feet and bowed and a few people cheered.

"So?" said Brittany excitedly. "Do I make the team?"

Santana really wasn't sure what to say.

"Erm…"

"Please," Brittany begged.

"Um…"

"We've talked about this, Santana," said Brittany, a playful glint in her eyes. "Use your words."

"There are a few words that spring to mind that I really don't think would be appropriate for present company," Santana remarked.

"Is that a yes?"

"No, it is not a yes!" Brittany's face fell and Santana rushed to fix it. "I mean…no. I still mean no. Sorry, Britts."

"But I'm awesome," Brittany pointed out. Santana tried to pretend she didn't know how much the Cheerios were judging her for this little scene.

"Do you really wanna be the April Rhodes of the Cheerios?" said Santana.

"Well when you put it like that and in that mean voice…" said Brittany slowly. Santana felt unreasonably guilty.

"You can come and help me be a judge though," said Santana.

Brittany's face lit up again and she bounded forward to sit herself in the chair next to Santana's. She then turned and threw her arms around Santana. "You're the best, San!"

"Yeah, yeah," said Santana, fighting off a blush at the public display of affection.

After that, selecting two new Cheerios became a lot more enjoyable.

* * *

It was finally parents evening.

Brittany had convinced her to give the sports clothes a rest for the evening and wear some of her usual work attire. She had to admit, she felt oddly more comfortable in her trousers and red blouse. It also kind of made her miss her actual job. She loved marching around LA like she owned the place and living the high life. Santana suspected it was partially because thrived under pressure.

It probably wasn't going to be much fun, but Brittany and Callie had decided to accompany Santana to school to 'save her from the boredom'. It was a bit late for Callie to be up, but Santana wasn't going to complain because frankly, she wanted the companionship. Being surrounded by a horde of needy parents clamouring for her to compliment their little darlings was not Santana's idea of a good time.

At the beginning of the night, the Cheerios performed a flawless routine while the Glee club sang. If Sue didn't hate the Glee kids so much she probably would have been pretty happy about it because the performance went down well and the parents seemed to love it. As far as Santana was concerned, that was her contribution for the night and she wasn't going to go out of her way to do anything else. She elected to loiter around the dimly lit gym for the rest of the evening to stay out of the way. Alas, that was not meant to be.

Santana was approached by the parents of almost every single Cheerio on her squad. Most of whom she didn't even recognise by name. She was forced to make stuff up for the majority of the time while Brittany and Callie sat to the side with a bag of Haribo and a pack of cards playing a very loud game of snap.

Apple's parents were exactly what Santana had been expecting. They reminded her a lot of Quinn's parents but with a little less money behind them. They both looked immaculate though and gazed at Santana with expectation in their eyes.

"Hi, Coach," said Apple tentatively. She actually looked a little scared.

"Dianne," Santana replied cordially. No point in calling her Apple when there where two other Apples in the vicinity. Not that she would have called her Apple anyway. Melon, maybe, or perhaps Grape.

"We've heard a lot about you, Mrs. Lopez," said the male Apple Senior. He held out his hand and Santana shook it. Mrs. Apple stood back and nodded with a bland look on her face. Poor sap.

"Have you indeed," said Santana coolly.

"Of course," Mrs. Apple piped up. "That's why we've come to ask you how our little Di is doing."

About ten mean things flashed through Santana's head as she searched for a response. "Well…" she began. Apple was looking at her pleadingly. "Dianne has potential," she finally decided on. "She just needs to apply herself more." _Damn_. Had she actually just sounded that teachery?

Mr. Apple frowned at her. "What do you mean?" he demanded. Obviously he wasn't used to being told that his daughter was anything but a model example of a perfect human being.

"I mean," said Santana, in a voice that suggested she was talking to someone she deemed to be very stupid, "She would do better if she tried harder. Her achievements would be greater if she were less lazy. Her cheering would be superior were it not for her complete lack of interest." A few metres away from her, Brittany cleared her throat loudly and Santana clamped her mouth shut. Oops.

The Apples didn't seem quite sure what to say to her. Apple Junior was kicking the ground in a steady rhythm and scuffing what appeared to be a new pair of trainers. Honestly, Santana didn't know why she seemed so surprised.

"Will that be all?" said Santana finally. Words could not describe how much she wanted the trio to leave.

"Yes, thank you," said the man coldly. He grasped his wife's shoulder and began to steer her away with Dianne trailing dejectedly beside them.

Well…that was a bit of an ordeal. Brittany was shooting her an unimpressed look, but Santana pretended she couldn't see her. At least maybe Apple would actually try to put more effort into her work now. It wasn't like any of the other teachers were going to criticise the 'Golden Girl'.

When Charlotte Bray and her mother wandered over, the girl waved at Callie enthusiastically. It was purely for that reason that Santana told the kid's mother how much of a wonderful addition Charlotte was to the Cheerios. Charlotte looked ecstatic and Brittany put her thumbs up at her as the two walked away to find another teacher.

As the night wound on, a lot of the parents seemed to be congregating in the gym to talk to each other; Santana took that as a good sign that people would be packing up to go home soon. Mm…home. It was encroaching nine o clock when the final Cheerio made her way over to where Santana was skulking around, trying to keep the look of boredom from her face.

The last student she had to play nice with was Christina Rains. She actually didn't mind this one. At least she seemed to have half a brain cell behind her, unlike a lot of the other cheerleaders.

But, as the girl and her father approached her, Santana felt an odd sense of foreboding.

She pushed it back though and nodded in greeting. "Christina."

"Coach," the girl replied in a robotic voice.

"Go on, then," said the man, with utter disinterest. Beside him, Christina flinched.

"Excuse me?" said Santana, an eyebrow raised.

The man, who Santana assumed was Mr. Rains, looked up at her. His demeanour changed entirely and Santana felt herself instinctively wanting to recoil away. The complete lack of concern quickly became ill concealed lust and his eyes dropped to her chest. She resisted the urge to fold her arms across herself.

"Coach Lopez, is it?" Rains asked. His voice was scratchy, as if from too much scotch and years of chain smoking, yet he couldn't have been much older than forty.

"It is," said Santana stiffly. Her eyes fell to Christina, who looked like there was nowhere else in the world she'd rather not be. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He smiled at her and clapped his hand onto the girl's shoulder; Christina's eyes darkened and dropped to the ground. "I've come to talk about my daughter. This is parents evening, right?"

"Yes, it is," said Santana. Inexplicable anger began to bubble in her chest and she took a deep, calming breath. "Is there anything specific you'd like to talk about?"

"My daughter's progress?" said Rains. His face clouded over and all attempts at trying to be charming were dropped. "That's your job, isn't it?"

Unfortunately, it was. Santana fought back a look of disgust. "Christina is doing well. Her timing is perfect and she fully deserves her spot near the top of the pyramid. With the right recommendations, I think she could probably earn herself a scholarship for college if we win Nationals. Which we will."

Christina looked up with a hopeful expression on her face, but Santana remained impassive. For his part, Rains looked less than impressed by this prospect.

"College?" he said.

"Yeah, it's one of those big schools for grown-ups who, unlike some people, want to do something worthwhile with their lives," said Santana without thinking. She regretted it as soon as the words left her mouth.

A look of fury flashed in Rains' eyes and he took a step towards Santana. Never one to back down from a fight, she kept her ground. The faint smell of alcohol assaulted her senses and she pursed her lips in disgust. She should have guessed. Out of the corner of her eye, Santana could see Christina on the verge of having a panic attack but she focussed her attention solely on the man who was currently towering over her, hands twitching at his sides.

"What did you just say to me?" he said, his voice low and dangerous.

"I think you heard me," Santana replied.

Everything after that was a bit of a blur when Santana looked back on it. Rains had tried to punch her; that much she remembered. She had somehow managed to dodge it at the last second and instinctively thrust her knee up into his stomach and pushed him away from her with as much strength as she could muster. He doubled over in pain and put one of his hands against the wall to support himself.

Before anything else could happen, Santana felt Brittany wrap her arms around her from behind and drag her away from the enraged man. A couple of the parents seemed to have leapt into action as well and were currently preventing Rains from charging forward and trying to attack her again.

A flush crept up Santana's cheeks as she realised the entire hall had fallen silent and everyone was staring at them with astonishment. She felt Brittany release her hold on her and she took a step forward. Rains had begun to yell threats at the people who dared stand in his way, all the while throwing Santana a look of pure loathing. Christina stood to the side looking positively mortified.

"Are you okay, Mama?" asked a quiet voice. Santana looked down at Callie, who was staring at her fearfully. All the tension seemed to leak out of her and she tried to smile.

"Yeah, sweetie," said Santana, bending down to pick Callie up. "I'm fine." She looked at Brittany and the blonde nodded unhappily.

Without another word, Brittany put her arm around Santana's shoulders and steered her out of the room and directly to their car in the parking lot.

* * *

Santana sat on the couch and stared into the empty fireplace. She felt…strange.

"She won't go to sleep until you check for monsters in her room," Brittany announced from the doorframe behind her. Santana flinched and looked around guiltily.

"Yeah, okay…" she said, rising to her feet and then brushing past Brittany on her way to the staircase.

When she went into Callie's room, the girl was sat up on the bed with her covers pulled up above her nose. The star-shaped nightlight (a gift from Rachel) was on and she was glancing around the room erratically. A look of deep relief appeared in her eyes when Santana sat down next to her and pulled her into a hug.

"Hey, sweetie," she said softly. "What's wrong?"

For a moment, Callie didn't seem like she was going to answer. Then she lowered the blanket a little and said, "I don't wanna go to sleep 'cause I don't want the monsters to get me."

Santana's heart clenched painfully. "The monsters aren't going to get you. I won't let them."

"But what if the monsters get you first?" Callie whispered.

"The monsters can't get me," said Santana with false bravado. She swallowed against a lump in her throat. "Ever."

"Are you sure?" said Callie. She released the cover completed and clutched at Santana's shirt forcefully. Santana closed her eyes and rested her chin gently atop the child's head. "That mean man tried to."

"Yeah," Santana admitted, "But who won?"

_A beat_. "You did, Mama."

"That's right, sweetie," said Santana, feeling guiltier with every single word. "I _promise_ I won't let anyone hurt you."

Callie nodded. "Okay."

"Come on," said Santana, trying to lighten the tone. "Me and your mommy are far scarier than any monsters."

Callie giggled and Santana felt herself unwind a little. "Mommy isn't scary."

"But you think I am, hm?" said Santana.

"Maybe," said Callie evasively.

Santana laughed. "You are far too young to be this smart."

"I'm the smartest person ever," Callie agreed. "Mommy said so."

Well, Santana couldn't argue with that. She and Callie talked for another minute or so, and then Santana rose to 'check the bedroom for monsters'; finding none, Callie seemed to be a lot more relaxed. She yawned loudly and Santana smiled.

"Ready to go to sleep now, sweetie?" she asked. The girl nodded and Santana pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Good night."

She left the room and closed the door quietly behind her. With a sigh she made her way back downstairs. Time to face the music, so to speak.

Brittany was stood in the middle of the room with her arms folded. She watched Santana sit down with a detached expression on her face. Santana hated that look.

"So?" said Brittany, when she realised Santana wasn't going to say anything.

"So what?" Santana challenged. She couldn't help herself.

"Oh, don't even," snapped Brittany. "What was all that about?"

"I…he started it," said Santana defensively. "He tried to punch me. What was a supposed to do? Just stand there and take it?"

"Why did you provoke him?" said Brittany.

"I didn't provoke him," Santana replied hotly. "It's not my fault if some crazy guy tries to punch me in the face."

"You were on edge from the moment he started talking to you. Why?" Brittany prompted.

"I don't know. I just didn't like him, okay?"

"No, not okay!" said Brittany, taking an angry step forward. "Apart from putting yourself in unnecessary danger, you get that our four year old daughter was there, right? She's probably not gonna be able to sleep for days now!"

Santana looked down. Yeah…she really hadn't thought about that at all. She'd have to talk to Callie again tomorrow and make sure she was okay.

"What if he presses charges or something?" Brittany demanded.

"It was self-defence!" Santana protested. "What would he even say? 'I drunkenly tried to punch one of my kid's teachers and she had the audacity to retaliate'?"

"I don't know, Santana! I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to beat up random parents though," said Brittany, throwing her arms in the air in anger. Anger wasn't usually an emotion that Santana associated with Brittany.

"Yeah well…"

"I just don't know what was going through your mind," said Brittany in a softer tone. "You know better."

"Maybe I don't know better," said Santana in response. "I'm back in frigging high school. Might as well act like it!"

"You're angry," said Brittany simply.

"Am I really?" Santana retorted. "What _ever_ gave you that idea?"

Brittany scowled at her and Santana held her gaze.

"Are you going to calm down and talk to me like you're a reasonable person now or are you going to keep yelling at me?" said Brittany, her eyes hard and her voice cold.

"I don't really see what there is to talk about," replied Santana.

"Fine. Whatever. I'm going to bed," said Brittany. Then without another word, she spun around and stalked out of the room.

Santana watched her leave with a horrible, empty feeling in the pit of her stomach. _Why, oh why, did I just do that?_

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Thank you very much for reading. I hope you enjoyed this chapter :-)

Oh, and in other news, I totally got myself tickets to Glee Live next year. Hell to the yes.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Ahoy-hoy, my good fellows. Ack, once again, thank you all so much for reading and to those who reviewed. You're too good to me.

I thought I'd try something a bit different with this chapter and attempt to write from Brittany's point of view for a scene. So yeah, that means a little bit of switching for this chapter. If it gets too confusing, please let me know and I'll refrain in the future!

Anywho, I hope you enjoy Chapter 10.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 10_

Brittany couldn't sleep.

She replayed the night's events in her head for the hundredth time and still came up with nothing. Brittany knew that she could be a little dense sometimes. It occasionally took her a little longer to figure things out than it might do somebody like Rachel, for example; but she was usually really good at figuring Santana out. It was like…her niche or something. Ever since they were little when most of the kids were too scared to go near the aggressive and caustic child, Brittany had been able to worm her way through the cracks and knew exactly what to do when she got there.

Something was wrong…like, _really_ wrong though, and Brittany for the life of her couldn't think what it was.

Santana hadn't acted out like that in a really, really long time; and she certainly hadn't tried to hit anyone in the last decade. Well…not sober, anyway. It didn't really count when she was drunk, right?

Maybe Brittany was just out of practice. She was used to grown-up, awesome-mom Santana, so the return of the petulant, violence-is-the-answer Santana was a bit of a surprise. Had this happened while she'd been gone or was it new? Maybe she should have tried harder to understand?

It was just so irresponsible of her. Fairly soon after Brittany had given birth, it had been clear that Santana was going to be the responsible parent whereas she was going to be the fun parent that Callie could go to when she wanted to ask for things she knew Santana would never allow. Of course, Brittany wouldn't allow them either. Callie just had a bizarre notion that Brittany would be more receptive to her outlandish and childish desires. But she was straying off track again; the point was that Santana was supposed to be the smart one who knew better.

Who the hell starts a fight at a parent-teacher conference? Nobody is who. Except Santana, apparently. It just made absolutely no sense.

Brittany shivered a little against the cool night air. It was pretty cold outside and the bed was really big. Had Santana really slept in this alone for more than two weeks? It kind of looked like it was going to rain soon too. Just what she needed to top off a super day.

She rolled over and glanced at the digital clock, where it read _03:27_ in offensively bright, red numbers. Santana was still downstairs.

An unexpected wave of sadness washed over her. She knew she wasn't going to be able to get to sleep until she knew that Santana was okay. Besides, Brittany had slept alone for almost two months. She wasn't going to do it now when she had the option not to.

With a small whine of protest against the cold, Brittany threw off her duvet and dragged herself out of bed. Damn her wife for being so stubborn.

She crept down the stairs, so as not to wake Callie, and then paused at the open doorway of the sitting room. Santana was curled into a ball in the armchair, sleeping soundly. Brittany frowned and moved quietly to sit on the couch. To wake her up or not to wake her up… Even if Brittany hadn't wanted to talk to her, Santana was going to have some awful backache in the morning if she didn't wake her.

Before Brittany could decide either way, Santana let out a small whimper and visibly shuddered. All thoughts of being mad fled from Brittany's mind as Santana pulled herself into a tighter ball and tried to press herself even further into the chair; as though it would somehow protect her.

Brittany felt her heart break just a little bit as Santana emitted another soft cry.

"No," she mumbled, her face pressed into a cushion. "Don't…I don't want…" Her voice trailed away into an unhappy squeak.

Unable to control herself any longer, Brittany slid onto the floor and knelt in front of Santana's quivering form.

"San," she whispered tenderly. "Wake up."

Santana mumbled something unintelligible under her breath, but otherwise didn't respond. Brittany hesitantly laid a gentle hand on Santana's shoulder and shook her.

"Santana," she said, louder than before. "Wake up."

The reaction was instantaneous. Santana leapt up in fright, knocking Brittany's hand forcefully away from her, and fell backwards over the arm of her chair and onto the floor with a loud thud.

"Oh God," Brittany exclaimed, practically crawling around the chair to reach her wife. "Santana?"

Santana's breaths were coming out in short, sharp gasps and she stared at Brittany anxiously.

"It's just me," said Brittany frantically. "Santana?"

For about a minute the two just stared at each other; then the panic in Santana's eyes started to abate. Finally, her shoulders slumped and she let out a pained groan.

"What the hell is going on?" Santana croaked. She sat up and rubbed the back of her neck.

Brittany frowned. "Don't you remember?"

Confusion clouded Santana's face and she closed her eyes. Brittany reached out cautiously and took one of Santana's shaking hands in her own.

"Yeah," she said finally. "I remember."

A sigh of relief escaped from Brittany's lips and an awkward silence descended upon the two. Brittany opened and closed her mouth several times before settling finally on rising to her feet and holding out a hand to Santana. She took it and Brittany pulled her up and steered her to the couch where they both sat down.

"Are you okay, San?" Brittany asked in a soft voice so as not to startle her again.

Santana let out a slow blow of air and nodded her head. It hurt, Brittany thought idly, to be lied to by the person you trusted the most. Santana seemed to sense the way Brittany was feeling because she looked up at her guiltily.

"I'm really sorry," said Santana.

"I know you are," Brittany replied reluctantly.

"Please don't make me talk about it," Santana begged. She looked so vulnerable that Brittany couldn't help but nod in agreement.

"I won't make you talk about the dream," said Brittany. Santana flinched. "But I _do_ want you to tell me what happened in the gym before."

Santana looked at her pleadingly, but Brittany wasn't going to back down this time. She held her gaze and was intensely gratified when Santana was the first to look away. Then she felt a little guilty, because this really wasn't a competition.

"I just…"

"Santana."

"I think…I think he hits her," said Santana quietly. Brittany frowned.

"Who do you mean?" she asked.

Santana hesitated. "That…guy. Rains. I think he hits the girl. Christina, her name is. I've thought it for a couple of weeks now. She just…always seems to be hurt." Her eyes were glassy and her shoulders were slumped forward. Brittany couldn't remember the last time she'd felt this helpless.

"Are you sure?" asked Brittany.

With a shake of her head, Santana sniffed and Brittany wrapped one of her arms around her and pulled her closer.

"Yes. No. I don't know," she mumbled into Brittany's shoulder. "I wasn't sure at first, but as soon as I saw him I knew."

"And you thought 'hmm, let's provoke this violent, angry man'?" said Brittany, though there was no emotion behind her voice. She was just stating a fact.

"I thought he'd be deterred by the million other people in the room," Santana admitted. "Well no…I didn't. I wasn't thinking at all…I just got so angry."

"Okay," said Brittany sadly. "I get it. You don't have to explain anymore."

Santana looked up and Brittany couldn't help but smile a little at the love in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry I yelled at you," said Santana. "I just…get like this sometimes. I know it's no excuse." Brittany knew that, of course; Santana had always been incredibly volatile.

"That's okay," Brittany replied. "I'm sorry I wasn't more understanding. I know you wouldn't do something that stupid without a reason."

Santana snuggled into Brittany's side let out a little sigh of relief. Brittany relished in the knowledge that she was the only person in the world who could make Santana feel safe in this way.

"I love you, Brittany," said Santana under her breath. "Can we please go to bed now?"

"Yeah," said Brittany wearily. "I'm sleepy."

They both rose to their feet and Santana shot her a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. Brittany smiled back and latched onto her hand. As they went upstairs to bed, Brittany couldn't help but feel like this was far from over. She didn't think she'd be getting any sleep that night at all.

* * *

At half past seven, Santana's alarm began to ring. She resisted a groan of complaint and reached over to switch it off. _Do not want_, she thought tiredly.

"How is it already time to get up?" Brittany mumbled into the back of her neck.

"Time for _me_ to get up," Santana corrected. "You can stay in bed."

The lack of response let Santana know that Brittany obviously thought this was a very good idea. It was only fair really; it was, after all, Santana's fault that she hadn't slept all night. Though they may not have been particularly restful, at least Santana had managed a few hours before she'd fallen off that chair.

"Don't go in today," said Brittany, after a few more minutes of lying in silence.

"I have to," Santana replied instinctively.

"No you don't," said Brittany. "Call in sick."

Santana sighed deeply. "I wish I could, but Figgins will know I'm lying."

"So what?" said Brittany stubbornly. "He's going to tell you off, you know."

"Yeah," said Santana. "I know. The guy probably wet himself when he found out what happened."

"So don't go in then," Brittany repeated.

"Brittany, I can't take the day off just because I'm a bit tired," said Santana, pulling herself from Brittany's grasp and forcing herself into a sitting position at the end of the bed.

"I don't want you to leave," said Brittany mournfully. Santana looked into Brittany's sorrowful eyes and felt a sharp tug at her heart. "Please stay."

"I can't," said Santana, her eyes dropping downwards. "I need to make sure Christina's okay."

It was only after she and Brittany talked last night that Santana had realised exactly how reckless her actions had been. Not only had she put herself in danger, but she had angered who she suspected was a violent man and then left him to drunkenly go home with his fifteen year old daughter. She knew how people like that's mind worked, and if she was right then it was going to be her Cheerio that was going to suffer the consequences of her little outburst. If Christina wasn't okay then Santana didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself. It would be her fault if the cheerleader was hurt.

"You shouldn't go," Brittany persisted.

"Why not?"

"Because…" Brittany hesitated. "I just…have a bad feeling. I want you to stay here."

"A bad feeling," Santana repeated sceptically. She stood up and wandered over to the wardrobe to find something to wear for the day. When she looked back at Brittany, the woman was wearing a painfully wounded expression. "Sorry, Britt…I didn't mean–"

"Yeah, okay," Brittany interrupted. Santana flinched a little at her harsh tone.

"I just–"

"Forget it," said Brittany. "We'll talk about it later."

Unhappily, Santana didn't reply, and instead focussed her full attention on getting ready for what was undoubtedly going be a wonderful day.

* * *

By Friday morning, news of what had happened at parents' night had spread like wildfire throughout the entire school. Naturally, the story had grown into the realms of complete impossibility, but nobody really seemed to care. Santana had heard two versions by lunch time; one being that Rains had come at her with a knife and she'd fearlessly fought back to the point where he was currently in the intensive care unit of the hospital. The second version was much less complimentary and basically involved Santana randomly hulking out at the end of the night and attacking an innocent bystander for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Obviously, most of the students preferred to believe the second tale due to it being far more entertaining.

Summons to the principle's office had arrived fairly early in the morning. The student that had been sent to get her looked like he was about to wet himself when Santana looked at him furiously. She pursed her lips and nodded at him tersely; he fled the room in terror.

Figgins was predictably useless. His first course of action was to talk down to Santana like she was some kind of naughty child and explain to her why what she had done was wrong. Thankfully, her scowl deterred him from that pretty quickly and he resorted to the yelling she had been expecting from the beginning. It hadn't taken her long to lose her temper and accuse him of wanting her to be attacked. It was ridiculous, and she knew it, but if she hadn't hit him then that was what would have happened. Eventually, she had stormed out of the room with a terrified Figgins in her wake.

When she got back to her office, Will was there waiting for her with a concerned expression on his face. She frowned at him and sat down.

"Do you wanna tell me what happened?" he asked when he realised she wasn't going to volunteer any information.

"Some dude tried to punch me, so I stopped him," said Santana scathingly. "I really don't know why I'm being made out as the bad guy here."

His expression remaining constant, Will nodded slowly. "Okay then," he said. "I need to get to class, but if you want to talk about it then you know where to find me."

"Yeah, like that'll happen," Santana muttered under her breath as Will left the office. Why did she feel like she was being harassed?

Lunchtime came and went; Santana didn't leave her office. She briefly wondered if the Cheerios had waited for her the entire time or if they'd left when she didn't show up to practice. She found herself caring very little though. She'd go and check on Christina later.

* * *

Not that she would have admitted it to her friends, but Dianne was becoming increasingly nervous as she made her way to Lopez's office. She really didn't want to be the one to have to do this; but she was the leader and it was her job.

Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the door and waited.

"Come in," said Lopez.

Dianne pushed the door open and moved to sit down in the chair in front of Lopez's desk. She looked up at her incredibly vexed looking coach and almost flinched.

"Is there something I can help you with, Apple?" said Lopez. She sounded tired.

"Er, yeah, Coach," said Dianne, trying to keep the uneasiness out of her voice. "I was wondering if we still have practice after school?"

Lopez scowled. "Of course we do."

Dianne nodded. "Okay, I just wanted to check."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Dianne wasn't quite sure what to say, but she somehow felt like it wasn't the time to leave. Lopez cleared her throat loudly and glanced to the corner of the room awkwardly.

"Have you…" she said, then she paused. "Is Rains around?"

Dianne was surprised. She'd have thought that Christina would be the last person that Lopez would want to talk to. Unlike the majority of the school, she had actually been in the room during the incident. In fact, her father had been one of the people to drag the man back after Lopez had winded him. She'd seen Christina's dad clearly try to punch the woman, which really was often something that Dianne would like to do herself if she were honest, but it had, in reality, been kind of scary.

"I've seen her," Dianne admitted, "But she hasn't said much to anyone."

"Right…" said Lopez uncomfortably. "Next time you see her, tell her I'm looking for her."

"I will, coach," said Dianne, rising to her feet. "See you later."

* * *

At the end of school, Santana realised she could no longer hide away in her office. Not that that was what she'd been doing. She just had a lot of paperwork to do. So, not wanting to miss a second practice, she made her way quickly down to the field.

The Cheerios were there waiting for her, of course, but she felt oddly on edge. Her eyes immediately found Christina, but she was staring at the floor and refused to look up. Before Santana could instruct them to start their usual warm-up routine, the small patter of feet caught her attention. She turned around just in time to see Callie draw level with her and throw her arms around Santana's legs. It took all of her self-control not to jump.

"Mama," said Callie quietly. "You left before I got up."

Santana rested her hand on the girl's head and then looked up at the Cheerios.

"Sanders," she said with an effort to keep her voice even. "Warm-up. Go."

The Cheerios immediately launched into their stretches and Santana bent down to scoop up Callie in her arms and then carried her over to where Brittany sat with a small smile on her face.

"Sorry I left so early this morning, sweetie" said Santana to the girl. "I didn't want to wake you."

Callie arms tightened around Santana's neck. "Okay, Mama."

"I promise I won't do it again," said Santana earnestly.

"Good," said Callie.

Santana sat down next to Brittany and observed the Cheerios begin their run around the track for a moment.

"How are you feeling?" asked Brittany in a low voice.

"I'm okay," said Santana, unconsciously holding Callie a little tighter. "How about you?" she then asked anxiously.

"Tired," said Brittany. "But I'm okay. We spent the day with my mom and dad."

"That's good," said Santana. "Did you have fun?"

"Yeah," said Callie, suddenly brightening up and taking her face from Santana's shoulder. "We watched the Aristocats!"

"We did," Brittany confirmed with a grin.

"I like the mouse," said Callie with a definitive nod.

"I like the geese," said Brittany, sounding just as serious about the subject as their daughter, "But the mouse was good too."

"The mouse was so much cooler," Callie argued. "Granddad said so too so it must be right."

Brittany pulled a face. "Yeah well…he's old so it doesn't count."

With a giggle, Callie shook her head. "You're old too."

"Oi!" said Brittany indignantly. "Watch it, you, or there'll be no ice cream tonight."

Callie pouted; a trick she'd learnt from Brittany.

"Well," said Santana with a short laugh, "As riveting as this conversation is, I needs to go and coach me some Cheerios."

"Okay, Mama," said Callie, sliding down from Santana's lap and then sitting herself on the other side of Brittany.

Santana stood and Brittany shot her a wan smile.

"Thanks for coming," said Santana softly.

"Any time, San," Brittany replied.

As Santana meandered back over to the Cheerios, she realised that she had a _lot_ of apologising to do later. There had been absolutely no need for her to take out her frustration on Brittany.

The Cheerios began work on their new routine, and nobody noticed that they were being watched.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Thank you for reading :-)


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Hey, folks. Thanks to everybody who read and reviewed the last chapter! As always, reviews kind of make my day so yeah, muchas gracias :-)

On to Chapter Eleven!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 11_

For the most part, Santana was just going through the motions. She was really not in the mood for a perky group of Cheerios, but she had an image to maintain. She was also finding it beyond difficult to keep from staring at Christina, who had yet to look up from the floor. When the Cheerios began their second routine and Christina flinched, so did Santana.

The weather was awful. It had been cloudy for over twenty-four hours and had yet to actually rain. As soon as it did she was going to have to commandeer the gym for practice. There was no way she was going to risk the Cheerios lives, like Sue would, by making them do dangerous manoeuvres on a slippery field, followed by something along the lines of a, 'You think this is hard? Try being held as a political prisoner in Burma. That's hard!'. It was the kind of weather that Santana just knew if it didn't break soon, they were going to have one hell of a storm. The air was humid and stifling.

Santana looked at her watch, noting that there was still half an hour left before the end of practice. The cheerleaders were already beginning to look tired so she decided that maybe after this routine, she'd let them go a bit early. The fact that she wanted desperately to talk to Brittany had absolutely no bearing on her decision, of course. She was professional. Yep.

"Okay," said Santana loudly. She'd forgotten her megaphone, much to her displeasure. This was what came when she allowed herself to become distracted. Her throat was probably going to be sore for days now. "Last pyramid and you can all go home."

She earned a few looks of glee at this and the girls quickly began to assemble themselves. Santana was pretty sure that this was the fastest she'd ever seen them move before. They were precisely pyramid shaped in record time. Then something odd happened. Every single happy smile, fake or otherwise, fell into something undistinguishable. Something far from happy. Santana frowned.

"Okay, I want…" she trailed off because not a single person was looking at her. They were looking at something behind her. "What are you all–" said Santana, turning around. She froze. "Oh."

Rains stood before her, a gun pointed directly at her face. Her breath caught in her throat and her hands dropped to her sides.

"Coach Lopez," he said conversationally. The smell of alcohol radiating from him made Santana feel sick.

"Mr. Rains," she replied, striving to stop her voice from shaking. "Is there something I can help you with?"

He looked at her thoughtfully and then lifted the gun away and used it to scratch behind his ear. Knowing this was her only chance, Santana struck. Her fist shot out, catching him in the jaw. In his surprise, the gun fell to the ground and she dove for it while he screeched curse words and threats at her.

Pure terror fuelled her on as Rains threw himself down on top of her and they wrestled for the weapon. In the back of her mind, Santana was dimly aware that some of the Cheerios seemed to be crying and screaming. She wondered how long they'd be able to keep that pyramid up before it collapsed.

Santana kicked out and hit Rains in the side, forcing him away. She scrambled to her feet and pointed the gun at his head, ignoring the way the Cheerios were all gaping in panic and horror. He seemed surprisingly unconcerned at his predicament.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said, panting for breath. His voice set her teeth on edge.

"And why not?" asked Santana, narrowing her eyes at him. He simply smiled at her and gestured in front of him.

Santana turned her head and her heart plummeted.

"No…"

"Yes," said Rains, rising to his feet ungracefully. He held out his hand and Santana only briefly hesitated before blankly handing him the gun. He then gestured to the two men stood in the bleachers and they dragged Brittany and Callie closer to them.

"I didn't see them coming," said Brittany when Santana was in earshot, tears were rolling down her face. Santana could only stare at them.

"Mama," Callie cried, trying to escape from the man who was holding her firmly to his chest. "Help!"

"Stop fighting, Cal," said Brittany fearfully. The man holding her pressed the knife he was wielding further into her neck and Brittany gasped and slammed her mouth shut. Callie continued to cry.

"Let them go," said Santana, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please."

Rains seemed to think about this for a moment. "Why should I?"

"Just leave them alone," said Santana. She wasn't even sure if he could hear her; she was struggling to even hear herself over her pounding heart and Callie's heart-wrenching sobs. "I'll do anything."

"Just what I wanted to hear," said Rains, running the end of the gun down her cheek. She resisted the urge to flinch away.

"Stop it!" one of the Cheerios suddenly shouted. It was Christina. "What are you doing?"

"This doesn't concern you," Rains snarled at her. Christina dropped her head and Santana could taste bile. "In fact," Rains shouted, waving his gun around haphazardly, "If I see _any_ of you moving, I'm going to kill the kid."

Callie's weeping became more hysterical and Santana couldn't breathe. She literally didn't think she'd ever been so scared in her entire life. She wanted to move or say something. _Anything_. But her body refused to obey her. She looked at Brittany, but her wife was looking up at the sky trying to suppress her own tears. It looked like she was praying.

This really was happening. There was no stopping it.

"Why are you doing this?" Santana asked, her voice surprisingly emotionless.

"Nobody publicly humiliates me and gets away with it," Rains snapped, poking her hard in the chest with the gun. There was a wild glint in his eye that scared Santana far more than the weapon. He seemed to be the dangerous kind of the drunk; sober enough to be fully functional but drunk enough to have lost his inhibitions. There was no way this was going to end well for her.

"Close your eyes, Callie," Santana ordered suddenly. The girl let out a loud sob and struggled weakly against her captor. "No! Keep still. And close your eyes."

"Mama–"

"It's okay, sweetie," she lied. "Everything's going to be okay." Rains smiled coldly at her. "Just do what I say."

Callie continued to cry but squeezed her eyes firmly shut and Santana let out a low breath. Her relief was short lived, however.

She felt a sharp, burning pain and staggered sideways as Rains slapped her hard across the face. A few of the Cheerios screamed and she gasped in surprise. Before she could react, he had grabbed a fist full of her hair and was pulling her back towards him. She really wasn't sure what hurt more; the actual physical pain or the knowledge that she couldn't fight back. Somewhere in the distance she could hear Brittany shouting her name, but as a second punch connected with her cheek all thoughts of background noise were driven from her mind. She fell onto her hands and knees and fought back a wave of nausea as the metallic taste of blood filled her mouth.

Rains' mocking laughter filled the air and he kicked her sharply in the ribs, causing her to topple sideways and onto her back. As he kicked her again, Santana became very aware of how difficult it was becoming for her to breathe. She struggled for air as he once again grabbed her ponytail and dragged her painfully to her feet.

"Don't look so angry," said Rains calmly. "We both know you deserve this."

In response, Santana spat blood in his face. Fury flashed in eyes and he shoved her back onto the floor. She muffled a cry of pain into the cold, unforgiving ground and then desperately forced herself to roll over so she could stand back up. Before she could, a heavy boot came crashing down on her chest, forcing her back down. She let out a strangled yelp and struggled feebly to push his foot away. He moved fairly quickly and Santana gasped as oxygen burned through her lungs.

Brittany was shouting again, but Santana couldn't hear what she was saying. All she knew was that she needed to stay conscious and she needed to protect her family. This was all her fault and she needed to fix it somehow.

After her brief respite, the Rains smiled grimly at her and then bent down to straddle her. She suppressed a whimper at the increasing pressure on her already damaged ribs. Rather than punch her again though, which was what she'd been expecting, he grabbed hold of her left wrist and pulled it towards him.

"Go to hell," Santana wheezed as a lecherous smile crossed his face.

He took hold of her hand and slowly uncurled her clenched fingers.

"What are you–"

Then he grasped her wedding ring and pulled, taking the engagement ring with it. Santana felt her heart leap to her throat and she began to choke on her words.

"Wait! No…Give them back," she said with as much strength as she could muster.

The man clucked his tongue and shook his head as though he were deeply disappointed.

"Oh, Santana," he said, her name dripping from his tongue like acid. "You know what this is?"

"Please–"

"It's an abomination," he said with disgust.

"I–"

"You make me sick," he said, revulsion colouring his voice. Then he stood up and threw the rings as far away as he could.

"No!" Santana cried, scrambling into a crawling position and trying to chase after them. He kicked her roughly in the side and she fell back down, whining pathetically. Her vision swam as her head pounded unmercifully.

Suddenly, it was no longer Rains bearing down on her. Another face invaded her consciousness and her panic rocketed to new heights. Her struggling became stronger while adrenaline blocked out all feeling of pain. The man looked confused for a moment and then grinned wickedly at her.

"You know," he said conversationally, easily pulling her into a sitting position and straddling her lap, "I've always found fear a huge turn on."

No no no no _no_.

His fingers gripped the bottom of her shirt and he dragged it roughly over her head. There were tears dripping down her face now but she wasn't sure how they got there. She wasn't even sure where she was anymore. Or why her peripheral vision was rapidly darkening.

Santana flailed uselessly and he laughed in her face. His breath smelt like smoke and vodka and she gagged as he crushed his lips to hers and bit down hard on her bottom lip. As she fought back futilely, her hand came to rest on something cold and metal and she felt a thrill of hope. She pulled the gun from his waistband.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing," he growled, catching her wrist easily. She yelped in pain as he squeezed and she dropped the gun to the ground. He picked it up and looked at it thoughtfully. "Think I should use this on the little blonde girl?" he said, nodding his head in the direction of Callie.

"Please don't," Santana managed to whisper, her voice thick and painful.

Rains laughed cruelly and swung the gun at her head.

Everything went black.

* * *

Brittany launched herself forwards as Santana slumped to the ground but was held firmly in place. She tried to choke out Santana's name but all that came out was a series of muffled cries and whimpers.

Rains looked even more furious that he had done before. He stood up and kicked out angrily, catching Santana in the side. She didn't react and Rains let out a cry of frustration.

"Get up, you stupid bitch!" he yelled. Santana didn't move and Brittany wasn't sure if she was relieved or horrified. Rains huffed and turned his eyes to Brittany. She flinched and unsuccessfully tried to back away.

For about a minute, all that could be heard was Callie's sobs. Brittany's head felt like it was about to explode. She couldn't even bring herself to look down at her wife's prone form.

"What are we doing, boss?" said the man who was holding Callie. "Can't stay here forever. Someone's gonna catch us."

There was another pause. "We're taking the girl."

"No!" Brittany wept.

"Shut up!" snapped Rains, pointing the gun at her face. Brittany bit her tongue and sniffed. "Put her in the car," he then said to Callie's captor.

"Mommy," wailed Callie, as she started to be dragged away. She still hadn't opened her eyes.

"Stop!" Brittany begged, struggling forward and ignoring the way the knife bit into her neck, causing a small trickle of blood to roll down onto her shirt. "Take me instead. Please."

Rains laughed and Brittany felt like there was ice running through her veins. Callie's cries were drifting further away.

"Let her go," said Rains to the man holding Brittany. He released her and she fell to her knees and dry heaved. As soon as the nausea passed, she jumped to her feet and made to run after her daughter.

"Stay where you are," Rains demanded, pointing the gun at her once more. Brittany froze and fought back the hysteria that was ever increasing.

"Please," Brittany pleaded. "Don't do this."

Rains smirked. "Follow us and the girl dies. Understand?"

Brittany closed her eyes and nodded, a fresh torrent of tears running down her face. Then Rains began to walk away to his car. She couldn't even hear Callie anymore.

As soon as he was out of sight, Brittany took off in the direction of the car park. She arrived just in time to see the car pull away and speed down the street, taking away what felt like a large piece of Brittany's soul with it. Her eyes were too full of tears for her to even make out the license plate. The car drove out of sight, leaving Brittany feeling cold and gasping for air. She wasn't sure how long she stood there.

"Mrs. Lopez!" a voice shouted from behind her. Brittany snapped back to attention and ran at full speed to the Cheerios. She dropped painfully to her knees in front of Santana.

"San," she whispered desperately. "Please wake up." Santana didn't stir. She lifted her wife's head up gently and then pulled back when she felt something slick and wet. Her hand was covered in blood.

She looked up at the terrified Cheerios, who had somehow disassembled their pyramid without Brittany even noticing. "Call nine-one-one!" she screamed.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Okay, so it's a good job I was about five chapters ahead before I started posting this, because, despite being the shortest I've written, this chapter took a full eleven days to write, as opposed to two it usually takes. This was like…really hard to write. Mainly because it was bringing me down and I kept stopping. Bad times. This is totally not where I was originally going with this fic, but the mood took me though and I just couldn't ignore it.

Hope you um…enjoyed this chapter.

Thanks for reading!


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Hm. Well. I thought maybe it best if I post a little earlier this week than I normally would for two reasons. This first being that I'm jet-setting off to the Sunshine State (that's what you crazy kids call Florida, right?) for three and a half weeks in the wee hours of Sunday morning, and thus will not have time to post on that day. Maybe while I'm there I'll try to pick up some actual American slang to try and make the characters in this sound a little less British! The second reason is because I seem to have panicked a few people and thought maybe I should begin to fix it sooner rather than later.

Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter! All your thoughts and comments are greatly appreciated.

Hope you enjoy Chapter 12.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 12_

Brittany sighed tiredly and rested her head on the hospital bed. Santana had been out cold about six hours and she wasn't sure how much more of this she could take before she burst into tears again. And tears helped nobody. At least, that was what Santana had said once upon a time. Those had been different times though. Maybe it wasn't true anymore?

A whimper escaped Brittany's lips as she gazed down at Santana's pallid form. She seemed so small. She'd always been shorter than Brittany, of course, but Brittany never really considered her wife to be _small_ before. Santana was too much of a force to be reckoned with to ever seem anything less than larger than life. The machine she was hooked up to was also incredibly unsettling. A staccato but steady beep filled the room, but Brittany was pretty sure that it was a good thing, so she didn't mind. The people on Scrubs seemed to like it anyway. It was when it became one really long beep that things were bad.

There was a short rap on the door, jolting Brittany sharply from her thoughts. An elderly looking nurse bustled in the room. Brittany was pretty sure it was that one who had looked so disapproving earlier when she had said that Santana was her wife. The nurse (Beatrice was it?) nodded courteously at Brittany and then began to note things down on a little clipboard whilst reading from the screen of the machine Santana was hooked up to. She then gazed critically at Santana and shook her head. Brittany frowned.

"Is she okay?" she asked.

The nurse looked at her as though she were stupid. "She doesn't look okay to me," she said after a moment, "But I'm not a doctor."

It took quite a lot of strength, but Brittany decided to ignore her tone of voice. "I mean is she less okay than she was when the doctor talked to me?"

"There have been no changes," the woman said stiffly. Brittany sighed in relief.

"You hear that, San?" said Brittany, she leaned down and kissed Santana's hand. "You're not getting worse. That's good, right?"

The nurse sniffed. "She can't hear you. Don't waste your time."

"Your bedside manner leaves something to be desired," Santana muttered quietly. Brittany almost jumped out of her skin and the nurse looked over in surprise.

"San!" Brittany cried, finally feeling the constriction in her chest loosen a little. "You're awake!"

Santana groaned and tried to swallow, despite her parched throat. "Oh my God…" she croaked.

"Are you okay? How are you feeling?" Brittany rushed. Santana still hadn't opened her eyes.

"Like I was hit by a freight train full of anvils and pianos," said Santana, her words slurring together. "What's going on?"

"You're in the hospital, Mrs. Lopez," said the nurse, picking up Santana's wrist and looking at her watch. "Do you remember what happened?"

Santana pried her eyes open and Brittany felt her heart skip a beat and the panic that rose in them. The steady beeping coming from the machine that Santana was hooked up to suddenly began to speed up at an alarming rate.

"Woah!" said Brittany, jumping to her feet. "Santana? What's wrong?"

"I'll go and get the doctor," said the nurse, quickly exiting the room.

"Callie…" Santana said frantically. Brittany frowned. "Need to save…"

"Who do you need to save?" Brittany asked loudly; she needed to so she could be heard over the incessant beeping noise.

"Callie," Santana wheezed.

Wait…_what_? "Callie is fine," said Brittany carefully. Confusion stole across Santana's face and she shook her head.

"No…I saw…"

"Callie is with Quinn," said Brittany, pushing Santana backwards onto the bed. "Santana, please stop. Everything's okay."

The beeping on the machine began to slow down just as the doctor burst into the room. He rushed over to the monitor and then looked down at Santana, who had closed her eyes now and was trembling violently.

"Mrs. Lopez," he said kindly. "I'm going to have to ask you to calm down. You're going to aggravate your injuries."

"But Callie…" Santana protested weakly.

Doctor Talbot, as he had introduced himself earlier, looked at Brittany and his bushy grey eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

"What is the last thing you remember, Mrs. Lopez?" he asked, taking a clipboard from the foot of her hospital bed.

Santana's gaze flicked between the doctor's and Brittany's. It was as though she just didn't understand; which wasn't something that Brittany was used to. Her heart clenched painfully and she squeezed Santana's hand tightly.

"We were at Cheerios practice…" she began.

Brittany opened her mouth but Talbot held out a hand and she stopped.

"Then that guy came and he took Callie!" Santana shouted. "Why are you so calm about this?"

"Callie is with Quinn," Brittany repeated. Santana looked at her like she was insane.

"No. I saw it happen!" Santana insisted. "We have to call the police. Or the FBI. Or the army! Just get them here!"

"Santana," said Brittany, in the softest voice she could, "I promise that Callie is fine. That didn't happen. About ten minutes ago Quinn took Callie to go and get some breakfast from the cafeteria."

"But…" Santana seemed to deflate. The lost look on her face broke Brittany's heart. "I saw it…"

The doctor cleared his throat loudly. "Mrs. Lopez, I think you were suffering from what is called a night terror."

"A night terror," Santana repeated faintly.

With a nod, Talbot continued. "They aren't common in adults, but your wife tells me that you've been under a lot of stress recently." Santana nodded a little. "This, combined with a lack of sleep was probably the cause."

"If it was just a nightmare then why am I in hospital?" Santana challenged.

"Night terror," the doctor corrected. "You see, nightmares tend to happen during REM sleep–"

"–Save the science for someone who cares, Doc," Santana interrupted.

"Santana," Brittany scolded.

"Right," said the doctor, looking a little put out. He'd been rather excited when explaining that to Brittany earlier. Admittedly, Brittany couldn't for the life of her remember what he'd said, but then again, with her wife lying in a hospital bed she didn't really see why she would be expected to. "Night terrors are more severe than nightmares–"

"You started screaming, San," said Brittany. The doctor stopped and nodded as though this were entirely normal. "Like…proper screaming. You sat bolt upright and just started yelling." A horrible silence filled the room and Santana looked down. "I thought you were dying or something," said Brittany, her voice shaking.

"But…I saw it," Santana whispered. She no longer sounded like she believed it. "He knocked me out and then he took Callie away…"

"If you were unconscious, how did you see someone take your daughter?" the doctor pointed out reasonably. Santana frowned and looked at her hands.

"I still have my wedding ring," she said.

A confused pause followed this statement.

"Of course you do, San," said Brittany. "Why wouldn't you?"

"I thought…he took them," she said, her eyes filling with tears. "I'm so confused."

Brittany sat on the bed and pulled Santana into her arms. It seemed to make the doctor a little uncomfortable, but she seriously didn't care at that moment in time. A sob tore from Santana's throat and Brittany pulled her in closer.

"Why am I in the hospital?" she asked in a broken voice.

"You jumped up out of bed," said Brittany. "I tried to wake you up but it was like you were possessed or something…You just kept screaming and shouting and then you ran out of the room."

"That doesn't–"

"Callie came out of her room so I went over to her just in case you accidentally hurt her." Brittany hung her head guiltily. "Then you tripped and fell down the stairs."

"So I'm in hospital because I sleepwalked headfirst _down the stairs_?" said Santana, her voice gaining strength in her annoyance. Brittany felt a wave of relief. That sounded a little more like the Santana she knew and loved.

"You hit your head," said Brittany in confirmation. "There was loads of blood and you wouldn't wake up so I told Callie to call nine-one-one."

It was amazing that Brittany managed to keep the emotion out of her voice as she described the chain of events to her wife. The doctor had warned her that Santana might not remember what had happened and that she should try to remain calm or it might panic the other woman. Maybe she could tell her about it later when she didn't feel like collapsing in a heap on the ground.

The shaking seemed to have stopped but Santana's shoulders were still tense. It was no wonder really, Brittany thought. She still had no idea what Santana had been dreaming about, but based on the ear splitting screams at the time and what felt like a lot of random assertions that Callie had been kidnapped, whatever it was had been far from good. Like…really far from good. Brittany couldn't even begin to imagine how she would feel if anything bad ever happened to Callie.

"Why is Quinn here?" asked Santana after a few moments of silence.

"Uh…" Brittany felt her cheeks redden a little. "I panicked when you fell and I called her…and Rachel," she admitted. "Rachel filled out our insurance form because I didn't really understand what to do with it…"

Santana let out a little laugh…well, at least Brittany thought that was what it was. It sounded more like a hysterical squeak than anything else.

Doctor Talbot cleared his throat loudly.

"Mrs. Lopez," he began. His teachery voice was back, Brittany noted. "Luckily, despite the amount of blood, there doesn't seem to be much damage to your head. I think you must have caught it on the corner of one of the top steps. Head wounds like to gush though, no matter how shallow the injury." Brittany nodded with relief at this. "However, on your way down, you seem to have hit your right side quite hard," he said seriously. "We gave you an x-ray and I'm afraid you've fractured two of your ribs. The surrounding area is severely bruised."

"What do I need to do about it then," said Santana, looking deeply unhappy.

"There is nothing we can do at this point," said the doctor reluctantly. "I've given you three stitches to close the wound on your head. You seem to be in no danger so I'd like to prescribe you some antibiotics and painkillers."

That didn't seem too bad, Brittany thought.

"And bed rest for the next month so as not to jostle the ribs too much and cause further damage," the doctor added. Brittany cringed.

"A _month_?" Santana exclaimed, then she grimaced in pain. "You can't be serious?"

"Very serious, I'm afraid," said the doctor unsmilingly. "I'm also going to recommend that you see a therapist before you leave. Night terrors are very uncommon in someone of your age."

Before Santana could open her mouth to argue, there was a knock on the door and Quinn poked her head around it.

"Hey, Santana," she said with a relieved smile. "I'm glad you're awake." Then someone pushed past her legs and Callie bounded into the room.

"Mama!" she cried, practically throwing herself on the bed and into Santana's open arms. Santana flinched as the girl launched herself at her, but she didn't seem to care and pulled Callie as close to her as she possibly could. Tears began to roll down her cheeks and she buried her face in Callie's hair.

"Hey, sweetie," she said, her voice somehow hopeful and broken at the same time. "You okay?"

"Yeah," said Callie brightly. "You scared me though."

Santana's shoulders tensed and Brittany rested a comforting hand on one of them.

"I'm sorry, sweetie," said Santana wearily. "I didn't mean to."

The doctor and Quinn made a stealthy exit to give the family a little time to themselves.

* * *

"I want to go home," Santana announced for the millionth time in about two hours. "This room smells like hospital."

"Stop moaning," Brittany admonished. "The doctor says you have a concussion and that you need to stay in overnight just in case."

"I know," replied Santana darkly. "I was here and I remember him saying it. Obviously my concussion can't be that bad if my short term memory is fully in tact."

"You still sound like you're drunk," said Brittany with a sigh. "Do you remember what actually happened at Cheerios practice yet?"

"Yes…" Santana lied. She dropped her head and sighed. No. She really didn't remember. All her memories were becoming jumbled and she was really struggling to separate them. Based on what Brittany had told her, Cheerios practice had actually been incredibly mundane. Apparently, Christina hadn't even showed up for it. Santana couldn't remember though, and whenever she tried to all she could see were awful images of that man dragging her daughter away so she decided that not thinking about it at all was the way to go.

Santana felt her eyes drift to Callie, who was sat on the floor with a colouring book and a pack of crayons that Brittany had bought from the gift shop. Since she had woken up, she refused to let Callie out of her sight for more than five minutes at a time. She just couldn't shake the feeling that she was going to wake up at any moment and find that her dream had actually been real. The idea made her feel physically ill so she decided the best course of action was just to make sure she was around at all times.

With a disapproving shake of her head, Brittany looked down at the magazine in her hand and turned the page. She then held it up to Santana.

"Which dress?" she asked. They'd been playing this game for a while now.

"Hmm," said Santana thoughtfully. "Beyoncé's."

Brittany grinned. "Good choice. I agree."

"I like the blue one," said Callie from the floor.

"That's because it looks like Cinderella's dress," said Santana with a smile.

Brittany held the magazine closer to her and then her face split into a wide grin. "Oh wow, it totally does! I want to change my favourite!"

Santana laughed but then immediately stopped as pain shot across her chest. _Stupid_ broken ribs, she thought bitterly. _Stupid_.

"You okay?" asked Brittany quietly.

"Yeah," replied Santana through gritted teeth. "Laughing is just a bad idea."

"Sorry," said Brittany, looking down guiltily. Santana couldn't help but smile at her. Only Brittany would feel bad about making her laugh.

"You will be," she said with a faux stern expression on her face. "There'll be none of this 'happy' nonsense while I'm around. I won't have it."

"Aw," said Brittany. She pouted. "But being happy is nicer than being sad."

"Happy is good," said Callie with a ferocious nod. Santana looked down and saw her pressing particularly hard on the paper in front of her with the yellow crayon. That was going to be one bright sun when she was finished.

"There we go," said Brittany, a smile once again on her face. "This family is a democracy, Santana. We win."

With a dramatic sigh, Santana put her hand to her head in mock despair. "But I thought I was in charge," she protested weakly.

"That's just what we let you think," said Brittany.

"Like that time we agreed to go to Subway after we saw The Princess and the Frog, but we ended up going to McDonalds like me and Mommy wanted anyway," said Callie knowledgably. Brittany threw back her head and laughed loudly.

"I am in _hospital_," said Santana, her despair not quite as fake as it was before. "Stop bullying me!"

* * *

It was with a heavy heart that Brittany walked to the exit of the hospital with Callie's hand in her own. It was getting late though and visiting hours were over. The doctor had promised she could come back first thing in the morning, but that didn't change the fact that Brittany was leaving Santana on her own for the night. After yesterday, she was pretty sure that leaving Santana alone was in the list of Top Worst Ideas Ever along with denim jackets and Mama and Papa Hitler deciding one day to spawn a child. But, she thought sadly, it wasn't like she could keep Callie here for the whole night. Besides, Santana would be fine…hopefully.

Visions of the look on Santana's face as Brittany and Callie left the room were already haunting her though. She had looked so lost and fearful that Brittany was seriously worried she was going to freak out and think that Callie had been taken again. Tomorrow, she was going to demand that Santana tell her exactly what happened in that dream. She'd let it slide for today, but tomorrow they really needed to talk. Hm…Déjà vu.

"Brittany?" said a voice behind her. She spun around and felt her mouth drop open.

"Dr. Lopez," she replied. Callie looked up with interest.

The tall man strolled towards her with a look of bewilderment on his handsome face. He glanced at Callie and then back up to Brittany. He looked exactly like she remembered.

"What are you doing here?" he asked. Not going to bother with small talk then, Brittany thought sadly. "I thought you lived in LA now?"

"We do," Brittany confirmed. "We just came for a visit."

He looked thoughtfully at her. "And you're in the hospital because…"

"Santana fell down the stairs and hit her head," said Brittany, not really wanting to go into the details for the third time that day. "She broke a couple of ribs too," she added.

For a moment, Lopez actually looked concerned. "No permanent damage, I hope," he remarked. There was a long and horribly awkward silence, then he said, "Does my wife know you're here?"

Brittany shook her head and unconsciously gripped Callie's hand a little tighter. She refrained from saying that Santana had decided against it because she hadn't thought she would care.

A pause. "Probably for the best," said Lopez. Then his pager began to beep and he glimpsed down at it with an odd look of distaste on his face. "I have to go," he said with a grimace. "Give Santana my regards."

Before Brittany could say anything else, he spun around and stormed away with long, purposeful strides. She felt her heart sink. She really thought that he'd care just a little bit that his step-daughter was hurt. Obviously not.

"Mommy?"

"Yeah, baby," said Brittany, turning back around to continue her journey out of the hospital.

"Was that my granddad?" she asked innocently.

"Er…"

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Admittedly, I may have posted the last chapter with the resolution to freak people out a bit, 'cause I'm wrong in the head like that. It may have worked a little too well. Dreadfully sorry. Besides, like I could ever steal Callie away! I love her too much.

Just as a little disclaimer, I haven't ever had night terrors so my knowledge of them is pretty basic. I did have a boyfriend who got them though and I tell you, it's a little bit terrifying to watch.

Anywho, as I said at the beginning of the chapter, I am indeed going on an extended holiday over Christmas. Sadly, this means my updates may not be quite as regular as they have been up until this point :-( I think there is internet in the villa I'm staying in but I'm not sure how good it's going to be and how much spare time I'm going to have. I shall try my utmost to keep up with posting though.

In other thoughts, why, oh why, was there absolutely no interaction between Brittany and Santana in the Christmas episode? Why? It's like they're actively trying to upset us.

Thank you for reading! :-)

P.S. Longest author's notes anyone's ever written in the history of fanfiction? Possibly…


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Hola from sunny (but not particularly warm) Florida, amigos. I just want to thank everybody who is still reading and especially to those who reviewed. Also, thanks for being patient in waiting for an update. To be honest, you probably wouldn't be getting one now (we go out first thing in the morning and only come back late so not much time for writing) but my sister has been violently ill like…all day, so, nice relaxing day in the villa. For me…less so for her.

I hope you like Chapter 13.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 13_

"I'm not sitting in the wheelchair," said Santana stubbornly.

"It's hospital policy," the doctor pointed out for the third time. Brittany sighed in annoyance.

"Can I ride in the wheelchair?" asked Callie, bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"Yes," said Brittany, finally snapping. She grasped Santana by the shoulders and steered her forcefully into the chair, ignoring the cries of protest. "You can sit on your mama's lap."

Santana continued to grumble but allowed Brittany to lift Callie onto her knee without further complaint. Brittany made a mental note at the way her arms wrapped just a little too tightly around the girl.

"Thank you," said Dr. Talbot, relief evident in his voice. From what Brittany gathered, Santana was unsurprisingly not the most cooperative of patients. On her way through the main reception earlier, Brittany had distinctly heard something about one of the patients making a nurse cry last night, and she had a very clear idea who that patient may have been.

Callie cheered loudly as the doctor took hold of the handles and began to push them steadily out of the room and down the corridor. He began to once more reel off the various vitamins and pills Santana would need to take over however many weeks it was. Brittany tried to listen, but she was confident that Santana knew anyway, so instead she focused on her wife's face for any telltale signs of how she was feeling.

When Brittany had arrived at the hospital that morning, hand in hand with Callie, Santana had looked so relieved to see them that for a brief moment, Brittany thought she was actually going to burst into tears. She guessed it had been another bad night, but when she asked Santana about it she had insisted that she'd been fine. Brittany resolved to ask her again later when Callie wasn't there. On the plus side, the doctor reported that at no point had Santana jumped up and begun to run around screaming and thus terrorising the other patients. Brittany couldn't help but wonder if it was because she had decided not to go to sleep full stop.

"Can I have a wheelchair for my birthday?" asked Callie as they drew close to the entrance. "Like Artie's."

"I had a wheelchair once," said Brittany, idly ruffling Callie's hair. "I lost it though."

The doctor shot her a puzzled look but she chose to ignore it.

"I remember that day," said Santana wistfully. "I think it was the worst bake sale in the history of bake sales."

"We made a dollar," defended Brittany.

"Yeah, from _you_. I don't think it really counts," said Santana with a fond smile.

Brittany grinned and shrugged her shoulders. She was pretty confident that it counted. She hadn't been the one to eat the cupcake after all and Becky had said that it was awesome.

"Okay, Mrs. Lopez," said the doctor, pulling to stop. "I mean this in the best possible way, but I hope I don't see you again any time soon."

Santana laughed lightly and then grimaced. "Agreed."

"I'll pencil you in for a check-up in a fortnight and send you a letter with the details," said Dr. Talbot as Callie jumped down from Santana's lap and Brittany helped her to her feet.

"Thanks," Santana muttered. "Oh, and I'm sorry I made that nurse cry before…"

The doctor waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I've never liked her anyway."

* * *

Dianne wrapped her hand around the chain of the swing and propelled herself backwards with her feet. Everywhere was a bit wet, because there had been a rather overenthusiastic thunder storm last night, but she didn't really care. That nice post-storm smell was around and that made up for the whole 'getting a bit damp' thing.

"Someone come on the teeter-totter with me," demanded Charlotte, with a cheerful but insistant smile on her face.

"No," said Christina morosely.

Charlotte's smile dimmed. "You're so mean sometimes."

"I'll go on it with you in a minute," said Julia, not looking up from her iPhone. "Let me just finish this email to what's-his-name."

"'What's-his-name'?" said Dianne with exasperation. "Seriously? You know his email address but not his name? You're such a whore."

Julia's head shot up and she glared at Dianne. "You know, sometimes? Your words hurt."

With a roll of her eyes, Dianne focussed her attention on Christina. She had been uncharacteristically quiet for the last couple of days and it was just a little unsettling. When Julia had slipped and fallen over on their way to the park, she hadn't even treated them all to one of her caustic comments about having a 'nice fall' or sending her 'a postcard from the trip'. It was both a nice break and oddly disconcerting.

"So what's up with you then, sunshine?" she asked when Christina noticed her staring.

"Nothing," Christina replied shortly. "I'm positively dandy."

"Are you still upset because your dad went crazy and tried to punch Coach Lopez in the face?" asked Charlotte, her pale blue eyes gazing sadly. She jumped off the swing and sat down on the floor next to Christina. "We know that wasn't your fault," she continued, resting her head on the other girl's shoulder.

"I don't know what you mean," said Christina stiffly, but she linked her arm with Charlotte's nonetheless.

"Really, though; was he drunk or something? Because that was like…insane," said Julia, subtlety, as usual, evading her. Though Dianne would have rather the question been asked in a less forthright manner, she was very interested in the answer.

With an uncomfortable shrug, Christina bowed her head. "I don't know. Probably."

An awkward pause followed this admission and for a while all that could be heard was the rhythmic creaking of Dianne's swing moving back and forth. Then the sound of childish laughter erupted somewhere in the distance and Dianne looked up slowly in the direction of the noise. She'd thought the park would stay empty with it being so wet.

"Callie!" shouted a despairingly familiar voice. "Stop running! You're going to hurt yourself!"

"Is she stalking us?" asked Charlotte with wide eyes. Dianne started to laugh; then she saw the serious look on Charlotte's face and stopped.

It took about thirty seconds for the little girl to burst onto the scene. Contrary to her mother's instructions, the girl was running at top speed towards the park. She looked a little worried when she saw that the swings were currently being occupied, then her face split into a wide grin when she realised who they were.

"Hi!" she said enthusiastically when she drew level with them.

"Hey, Callie," said Charlotte, with equal enthusiasm.

"You look weird without your normal clothes on," said the girl, looking at them curiously.

Dianne opened her mouth to explain to Callie that their Cheerios uniforms were not their normal clothes, but Charlotte beat her too it and simply agreed with the girl. Whatever. Wasn't like it mattered what the kid thought.

Just then, Coach Lopez and Brittany rounded the corner. Lopez looked noticeably anxious about something and her expression only darkened when her eyes landed on the four cheerleaders. Dianne unconsciously gripped the swing chain more tightly and she unwillingly glanced down at Christina.

"Are you here to feed the ducks?" Callie asked innocently, her blonde hair bobbing up and down as she jumped on the spot.

"Not today," said Charlotte, rather sadly. "We're here because my mom is getting tired of us hanging around in my basement."

Callie frowned and then looked back at her parents with a considering expression on her face. "I don't think we have a basement."

"I don't either," said Julia, finally putting her iPhone in her pocket. "Only losers have basements."

Charlotte pouted and Callie giggled. "That's just mean," said Charlotte, shaking her head.

"What was mean?" said Lopez, her voice suspicious as she and Brittany finally caught up with the overly energetic child. Up close, Dianne noticed that their coach looked remarkably pale. She also seemed to be holding her arm around her chest in a very awkward way.

"Nothing, Mama," said Callie sweetly, as though butter wouldn't melt.

"Hey, Coach," said Charlotte with a small wave. Honestly, Dianne had no idea how she managed such a constant level of peppiness. "Hi, Mrs. Lopez."

"I thought I told you to call me Brittany," said Brittany with a small smile. "We can't both be Mrs. Lopez. That's just confusing."

"Yeah," said Lopez, looking thoughtful for a moment. "Never really thought about that at the time."

The silence that followed was quickly broken by Callie beginning to jump up and down once more. She gestured towards the free swing next to Dianne.

"All right, all right," Brittany laughed. She released Lopez's hand and manoeuvred her way around Charlotte and Christina to lift the girl onto the swing. "One second." Then she moved back to Lopez and put an arm around her waist. An annoyed look crossed the woman's face as Brittany gently pushed her in the direction of the nearby bench.

"You don't need to carry me," Lopez grumbled. "I can get there by myself. I feel fine."

"You should be in bed," replied Brittany in a low voice, but Dianne could still hear her. "You only feel fine because you doubled your painkiller dosage. Don't think I didn't notice." Dianne frowned. Painkillers? Lopez looked down guiltily.

"I can't stay in bed for a month, Britt," she said quietly, but the scowl on her face faded away.

"I never said you should," said Brittany. Then she stopped thoughtfully. "Although you should." She shook her head. "But yeah. A few days of rest isn't going to do you any harm."

"It might," replied Lopez stubbornly. Brittany pursed her lips in annoyance and helped Lopez sit down on the bench.

"You're absolutely ridiculous. You know that, right?" said Brittany as Lopez's face seemed to contort in pain.

"_I'm_ ridiculous?" said Lopez incredulously. "Do I really need to bring up the wheelchair incident again?"

A light blush coloured Brittany's face, but before she could respond, Callie began to chant the word 'swing' loudly. Dianne quickly glanced down at Charlotte so she could pretend she hadn't just been listening to every word that had just been said. Try as she might, there was something oddly fascinating about the little family and Dianne couldn't help but pay attention to them. Maybe she was destined to be a creepy stalker after all. Ew. Or maybe a spy for the CIA or something. Yeah. That was far cooler. She'd put the idea to the girls later and see what they thought.

"We should leave," said Christina quietly. Dianne nodded in agreement.

"Don't go!" said Callie loudly and Dianne flinched. "Stay and play with me."

"Callie, I don't think the girls–"

"Will you go on the teeter-totter with me if we stay?" asked Charlotte seriously, interrupting Brittany mid-flow.

"Yeah!" replied Callie, she scrunched up her nose in confusion, as though it had been the most stupid question she'd ever heard in her entire life.

Charlotte stood up and held her hand out, which Callie shook with a delighted smile. "Deal."

Dianne shifted uncomfortably as she watched Christina's head sink lower and lower until her dark hair fell in front of her face. She wasn't entirely sure whether Charlotte was completely oblivious or whether she just didn't see what the problem was, but either way, something needed to be done about that girl. More than anything, who in their right mind offers to hang out with a teacher and their kid? Nobody, is who. Nobody sane, anyway.

* * *

At the best of times, it was seriously difficult to sit comfortably on the park's metal bench; with broken ribs, it was absolutely impossible. Santana was desperately trying to shift into a more restful position while also attempting not to jostle her injuries, and it was beginning to frustrate her. Maybe her insistence at coming out had been a stupid idea after all. She just wanted to prove that she was just as competent now as she had been before…which apparently she wasn't.

Every few seconds, Brittany would glance over at her with a worried expression on her face, which made Santana all the more desperate to prove that she was okay. Which she was. Definitely. And even if she wasn't, there was no way she was going to admit it.

Callie let out a shriek and Santana felt her heart skip a beat as she looked up frantically. Brittany was pushing both Callie and the ginger girl…what's her name…Charlotte on the roundabout and Santana relaxed a little. No need to panic every single time she's out of your sight, Santana told herself unconvincingly. And yet, with Christina sitting awkwardly a few feet away, somehow everything felt about ten times worse. Maybe her heart was beating painfully quickly because it wasn't just one girl she was worrying about.

"Grapefruit!" Santana suddenly called. Apple looked up at her in bewilderment before rising from the swing she was sat on and rather apprehensively walking towards her. Santana chalked it up as a win that Apple didn't even bother looking annoyed that she'd got her name wrong. She then patted the seat next to her and the girl sat down.

"Yeah, Coach?" she said. Santana didn't fail to see the way the girl kept staring her curiously. Though she'd tried to make herself look presentable before she'd left the house, it was obvious she hadn't done a very good job of it.

Wow…this was really going to suck. "I need a favour," said Santana. She actually felt a little sick.

Apple's eyes widened rather comically and for the first time, Christina looked up from her spot on the floor to glance at her in surprise.

"Of course, Coach. Anything you need," said Apple quickly. Santana resisted the urge to roll her eyes. What an unbearable suck up.

"Tomorrow we're starting work on a new routine with jump ropes," said Santana, then she allowed Apple a couple of seconds to digest this new piece of information. "I can't demonstrate the moves like I usually do so I'm going to need you, as the Captain if the Cheerios, and your cronies to do it for me instead."

"Why?" said Apple, then her eyes widened in horror at Santana's annoyed look. "Erm…Sorry. Never mind. Yes. Whatever you want, Coach."

Really, Santana couldn't fault Sue Sylvester for encouraging her Cheerios to live in a state of perpetual terror of her. It was beyond fun watching them squirm uncomfortably. Being that she was so cooperative, however, Santana decided to answer.

"There was a bit of an incident over the weekend," she said, ignoring the way her side ached in protest of her use of the words 'a bit', "I hurt my–"

"Broke!" Brittany shouted from across the park. "Broke, Santana."

Santana shot a glare at Brittany, who returned it steadily. Hmph. She _knew_ she should have married someone more submissive to her will. Then Callie squealed with laughter and Santana immediately felt her irritation melt away.

"Fine. Whatever. I _broke_ a couple of ribs and so don't think I'll be doing any back flips off the bleachers anytime soon," said Santana, returning her attention to the cheerleader sat next to her.

"You can't do that anyway," Brittany pointed out. Seriously, did that woman have supersonic hearing or something? Santana elected to ignore her.

"I'll email you what I was thinking when I get home," said Santana, thinking to herself what a jolly good idea the new school email system was. It would have annoyed her beyond reason when she was a student, but as a sort-of educator she saw the benefits of having one.

"Okay," said Apple, nodding enthusiastically. Then a silence fell between them and Santana raised an eyebrow.

"…You can go now."

"Right!" said Apple. She jumped to her feet. "Yeah."

Santana rolled her eyes as the girl practically skipped back over to the swings and shot a smug smile at her friends. Then the girl who wasn't Christina or Charlotte began to list the places in her home where she might have put her jump rope last time she'd used it.

Santana yawned and then grimaced at the added pressure to her side. Broken ribs were like the worst injury ever. It hurt every time she breathed too deeply, and it wasn't like she could just stop breathing until she was healed. The stairs were clearly at fault for this mess. Right in front of their bedroom door was obviously a stupid place to put them. It was a wonder than nobody had fallen down them sooner.

For a while, Santana sat back and was content to just watch Callie play. It was certainly better than the alternative that she saw every single time she closed her eyes. She shivered a little and pretended that it was from the cold.

"Hey! Look at me!" yelled Callie. She stood balancing precariously right on top of the dome-shaped climbing frame. Santana bit her lip and looked over to Brittany, who was frowning a little but still waving up at their daughter.

"Well done, Cal," said Brittany, her usual enthusiasm somewhat dampened. "Come down now though. It's dangerous up there."

Callie pouted but dutifully began her slow and clumsy descent down the bright yellow climbing rungs. Santana watched each and every one of her steps like a hawk. As the girl got closer to the bottom, a look of panic crossed her face and Santana felt her muscles tense. As Callie took another step down, her foot slipped on the wet metal and she yelped in fear.

Brittany darted forward to grab the girl before she fell and Santana instinctively leapt to her feet.

"_Ow, Jesus holy mother of God_!" she cried out, as unbearable pain shot through her system and making little white spots appear in front of her eyes. She doubled over and then gasped as she further aggravated her ribs. She felt herself stumble to one side, but before she could fall, a pair of arms wrapped themselves around her middle; successfully steadying her. Her eyes closed of their own accord as she concentrated on her breathing and the pain slowly began to subside.

"Santana," said a frantic voice. "Are you okay?"

She pried her eyes open and was a touch surprised to see that Brittany was stood in front of her…in other words, _not_ the person practically holding her upright. She tilted her head to the side to see Christina looking deeply uncomfortable, but also with a hint of perceptible concern. Santana bit back a groan.

"I'm fine," she said, her voice painfully croaky. Christina released her hold on her and took a step back. "Are you okay, Callie?"

"Are you sure, Mama?" asked Callie, ignoring Santana's question. Little brat. Her face was a pale but she seemed to have recovered quickly from her almost fall. "We can go home now if you want to," she said sadly. "I've already seen the ducks."

Santana paused for a moment and straightened up a little. "In a few minutes," she said, directing a weak smile at the child. Thankfully, Callie seemed satisfied by this and bounded back over to Charlotte who, like apparently all the other cheerleaders, was staring at her intently; like she'd just grown a second head or something. She bit her lip and tried to focus on taking short, shallow breaths.

"Britt," said Santana, when she was sure she wasn't going to hurt herself again. "You know when I insisted that we should come out because I'd be fine? I might have been wrong…and those are not words I enjoy saying."

A sad smile crossed Brittany's face and she nodded lightly, then she glanced at Christina who was still hovering awkwardly next to Santana and raised an eyebrow. Santana knew exactly what she was thinking and she'd be lying if she said she disagreed.

"Yeah…anyway, I'm glad that you're here, Rains," said Santana, turning to face the teen. "I think we need to talk."

"Now?" said the girl, her face losing colour.

"No," said Santana, well aware of the audience of Cheerios she had at that precise moment. "Tomorrow morning. My office."

With reluctance, and a faint trace of a dark scowl, Christina nodded.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Looking back, this chapter feels a bit fillery…I wanted to bring back the Cheerios though. Anywho, hope you enjoyed anyway and thank you for reading :-)


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Surprise update: Commence. **MERRY CHRISTMAS**. OR HANUKKAH. Or whatever holiday to happen to be celebrating, if any. I hope you all have a gleeful (ha, do you see what I did there?) day tomorrow.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 14_

Brittany had just finished tucking Callie into bed before making her way down the stairs where Santana was still on the phone to an inconsolable Rachel. The beginning of the conversation had gone something like this:

"_Hello, Be–"_

"_I hope you're happy, Santana!"_

"_Ecstatic. Why do you ask?" _

"_Apparently the ill-advised director of Wicked decided to 'go in another direction'!" _

After that point, Brittany had decided to leave Santana to it and to take Callie upstairs to bed. Rachel was kind of loud even when she was happy, but when she was annoyed she always seemed to be especially shrill. It sometimes gave Brittany a bit of a headache. Besides, reading Little Red Riding Hood to Callie felt like a far more fun use of her time. The children's version that was…Brittany had been both devastated and horrified when she'd accidentally picked up the original Grimm storybook and found out that a lot of the stories that she believed to have a happy ending, didn't. Eventually, Santana had confiscated the book and replaced it with the nicer and generally better version.

She stepped into the living room and sat down. Santana was _still_ on the phone.

"_I'm too tired for this, Berry_," Santana was saying with a scowl. "_Do you _ever_ stop talking_?"

"_I like the sound of my own voice and I won't apologise for it_!" replied Rachel so loudly that she sounded like she was on speakerphone.

"_Look, I'll find something else for you. But now? I'm going to bed. Good night, Rachel_," said Santana, before snapping her phone shut with more force than was strictly necessary.

"Honestly, that girl…I could strangle her sometimes," said Santana wearily.

"Rachel's okay when she's in a good mood and doesn't want anything," said Brittany in defence of their kind of friend.

"Which is a rare occurrence," Santana pointed out. Yeah…couldn't really argue with that.

"What did she want this time?" asked Brittany.

"She didn't _want_ anything other than to let me know that she hoped I was pleased with myself because she hadn't got the part in Wicked. Like it's somehow my fault. Why does everyone think I enjoy watching them fail?"

"Because you do," said Brittany reasonably.

Santana looked thoughtful. "That's true…" Then they both grinned.

Silence fell upon the two women and Brittany saw Santana lean back in her chair and close her eyes, a brief look of pain crossing her face as she did so. It was probably going to be time for her to take her pain meds soon.

"How are you feeling?" asked Brittany, fully expecting a traditional 'I'm fine' or something of that ilk.

Santana cracked an eye open. "Honestly?" she said.

Brittany nodded. Of course _honestly_… Why on earth would someone ask for lies?

"I feel awful," Santana admitted, closing her eyes again. "I feel guilty because you quit your job for me and in response I've started acting like a hormonal teenager again. I feel guilty because I terrorised Callie to the point where she's started to randomly ask me if I'm okay; it should be the other way around. I feel guilty that today I sent that girl back to her father because I didn't really feel up to talking to her about whether he abuses her or not at that particular moment."

"Santana–"

"I should have called the police or something as soon as I suspected it. I just can't help but think that I'd just be making things worse for her if I did and they didn't do anything about it," said Santana, her voice cracking with emotion the more she spoke.

Brittany felt her heart clench painfully and she shuffled over the chair so she was closer to her wife. They instinctively linked their pinkies and Brittany couldn't help but smile a little. Sometimes it was nice to know that some things didn't change.

"He could be hurting her _right now_. And I could have stopped it somehow. But I didn't. What kind of person does that make me?" Santana whispered. She opened her eyes and they glazed over with unshed tears.

"It's not your fault, San," said Brittany. It was the only thing she could think of to respond with because try as she might, she just didn't have the answers that Santana was looking for. "If it helps, I forgive you for acting like a teenager."

An, admittedly small, smile captured Santana's lips, but it didn't quite reach her red-rimmed eyes. Then she cleared her throat loudly and the mood was instantly broken.

"Oh, and I feel pain. A lot of pain. We should demand that they carpet those stairs or something 'cause if I decide to throw myself down them again I'd like more padding," said Santana. She was trying to lighten the mood, but Brittany wasn't amused at all.

"Don't joke about that," she said quietly. "It wasn't funny."

Santana's face fell and she looked away guiltily. "Sorry. I…I didn't mean to."

"I know you didn't," said Brittany. She let go of Santana's pinkie and instead threaded their fingers together.

It was getting dark outside now, casting a rather eerie glow around the room. There was a really strange African-looking statue thing on the window ledge and the shadow that was being cast from it was seriously creepy. Brittany wanted to get up and close the curtains and switch the light on; but she didn't want to wake Santana up from her uncharacteristically sharing mood.

"Do you even know how much I love you, Britt?" said Santana after a while of companionable quiet time. "I love you more than anything else in the world. You and Callie."

Brittany smiled. "I love you more than you love me."

There was a sparkle of remembrance in Santana's eyes and she rested her head on Brittany's shoulder.

"I love you to infinity and beyond," she recited and Brittany chuckled lightly. It was just like when they were kids, except you know…now they were married and had a baby. Well, not a baby anymore, Brittany mentally corrected.

"I think it's time for me to take my meds," said Santana. She moved to get up, but Brittany gently pushed her back down again.

"I'll get them," she said firmly. "You stay put."

Though it seemed to annoy her a little, Santana obeyed the instructions and Brittany went in the kitchen to retrieve the medication and a large glass of water. She stared at the bottles for a moment and tried to figure out which ones to give to Santana. Shortly after, she gave up and decided to let Santana work it out for herself. It was probably safer that way, she thought, remembering back to that one time where she took all of her cold tablets at once and couldn't move for like…hours.

"Thanks," Santana mumbled as she took the bottles and easily measured out her dosages. Then she threw them all into her mouth at once and then downed half of the water. She pulled a face. "Remind me not to do that again," she said, her voice laced with disgust. "I think one of them is stuck in my throat."

"I'll try to remember," said Brittany, taking the glass from her and putting it on the table.

Santana sighed. "This seriously sucks."

"I know," said Brittany. She sat back down and took Santana's hand again. She hesitated. "Do you want to talk about your…night terror thingy…yet?"

With an obviously fake disinterested shrug, Santana shook her head. "There isn't much to say, is there? It wasn't real."

"It felt real enough to you for it to make you start screaming," said Brittany. Santana's eyes darkened, and though Brittany really didn't like to push her into talking when she clearly didn't want to, she knew this would be good for her.

"I dreamed that someone took Callie away," said Santana, then she shuddered as though the mere thought of it were too much to bear. "It was Christina's dad. He like…went all psycho and attacked me for some stupid reason and then he stole Callie."

She had said all of this very quickly, as though forcing it all out in as short a space in time as possible would make it easier to accept. Brittany brought up her free hand and rubbed her face tiredly. It was no wonder Santana had freaked out. She'd have probably taken a swan dive down the stairs herself if she'd though that their daughter had been taken away.

"It wasn't real though," Santana added. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself.

"It wasn't," Brittany agreed. "Callie is fine."

"Yeah…" said Santana softly.

"Is that why you didn't sleep last night?" asked Brittany. "Were you scared you were going to dream it again?"

Santana looked at her suspiciously. "How do you know I didn't sleep last night?"

"Santana," said Brittany gently. "You literally have never looked worse than you do right now. It looks like you haven't slept in about a year."

A pained laugh escaped from Santana's throat and she flinched as some of the tears she'd been desperately holding back since the start of the conversation leaked over and rolled down her cheeks. Brittany raised her hand and brushed them away with her thumb, but that just seemed to upset Santana even more. She let out a sob and Brittany felt that familiar thrill of panic she experienced every time Santana cried. It was just such a rare happening. Santana _never_ cried anymore.

She reflexively moved as close as she could to her wife and then pulled Santana into a hug. Santana curled into herself and buried her face in Brittany's shirt, clutching at it desperately. As Brittany stroked the mass of black hair just below her own chin, she couldn't help but think about how any other time, Santana's head being…where is was, it would have definitely been followed by some hot sex. As it was though, all Brittany could think about was how this reminded her of when Callie would cry after she'd hurt herself. Was she really thinking of Santana as a wounded child right now? That was weird.

It was as though a damn had burst. She'd been bottling up all these feelings for so long that she just couldn't take it anymore. At least, that was how Brittany saw it. Santana continued to tremble, and though she made little noise, Brittany could feel tears soaking into her clothes. She rubbed Santana's back and made soothing noises until she felt the shaking subside a little bit.

"Sorry," Santana muttered after a substantial amount of time had passed.

"What for?" asked Brittany; she placed a soft kiss on the top of Santana's head.

"For being such a whiney cry baby," said Santana. She took a deep breath and then looked up at Brittany; her eyes were red and bloodshot and if possible her skin looked even paler than before.

"You're not a whiney cry baby," said Brittany. "You're like…a grown up now."

"I don't know about that," said Santana, wrinkling her nose. "I don't feel much like one."

"You are," Brittany confirmed. Santana still looked doubtful, but she smiled a little and straightened up. Brittany felt oddly cold at the sudden lack of contact between them. "Do you feel better?"

Santana looked thoughtful. "Actually, I kinda do."

"…You don't _look_ better," said Brittany, observing Santana closely.

"Thanks. You sure know how to make a girl feel good," said Santana sarcastically. "Actually, I could kind of do with a shower. I haven't been able to wash properly all weekend."

"Bath," Brittany corrected. Santana quirked her eyebrow and shot her a mischievous grin.

"Oh, _really_?"

Fighting back her own smile, Brittany shook her head. "Mind out of the gutter. No strenuous activity for you for a few weeks, remember?"

A dramatic sigh escaped Santana's lips. "That's just mean," she grumbled. "How about if I just…don't move too much."

"I _might_ help you wash your hair," said Brittany firmly. There was just no way she was going to risk hurting Santana more than she already was. "But that's about the most action you're getting from me until you're better."

Santana sighed and dropped her head.

* * *

As it turned out, Brittany had to do a lot more than just wash Santana's hair in order for her to have a bath. That became apparent as soon as Santana tried to take her top off and cried out in pain when her arms got too high.

Brittany poked her head around the door. "Everything okay?"

Santana shot her a look of despair. "No. Everything is not okay. I can't get my stupid clothes off." Her voice cracked and she sat down on the toilet seat.

"Okay," said Brittany, stepping into the room and closing the door behind her. "Just relax."

Instinctively, Santana tensed as Brittany gripped the bottom of her shirt. She really hated not being able to look after herself. Brittany smiled at her and easily slid the shirt up and then over Santana's head. She then pulled it gently from her arms, folded it neatly and placed it on the washing basket. Santana let out a low sigh and glanced down at herself, cringing at what she saw.

"Stand up," Brittany instructed. Santana did as she was told and Brittany undid the button of Santana's jeans and pulled them down her legs. Usually this was a much more erotic experience, Brittany thought idly as Santana stepped out of them morosely. Brittany picked them up and folded them to put with her shirt. When she turned back, Santana was stood in front of the mirror and gazing at herself intently.

"I'm hideous," she whispered.

"What? No!" said Brittany quickly. "You're not hideous. You're like…the opposite of hideous. You're pretty. I mean…super pretty." Santana's expression didn't change as she looked critically at the multitude of varying coloured bruises scattered on her body. "You're beautiful, Santana," said Brittany honestly.

Santana bit her lip as her eyes came to rest on a long, thin scar and she looked away in revulsion. It was like she couldn't even hear what Brittany was saying, and if she did she certainly didn't seem to believe it.

"Turn around," said Brittany quietly. Santana did as she was told. Brittany bent down in front of her wife and began to press feather light kisses everywhere she came across a bruise. "You." _Kiss_. "Are." _Kiss_. "Beautiful." _Kiss_. She looked up at Santana, whose face was quickly reddening. "I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true," said Brittany, finally placing a row of kisses along Santana's scar.

"Do you know how cruel this teasing is?" said Santana, her voice breathy.

Straightening up, Brittany pulled Santana into a sweet kiss. After a moment, Santana whimpered and Brittany quickly pulled away. "Sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"No," said Santana, her lie blatant. "I'm okay."

Deciding that there was nothing to be gained from arguing the toss with her, Brittany nodded and swiftly removed the rest of Santana's clothes. Then she held out her hand and guided Santana awkwardly into the bath full of hot, soapy water. A series of quiet and repetitive 'ow ow ow's filled the air as Santana finally arrived at a sitting position. Brittany smiled in accomplishment.

"Okay. I'm bored now," Santana announced as Brittany sat down on the toilet seat.

"You've been in there for less than thirty seconds," replied Brittany, rolling her eyes.

"So?"

"So," said Brittany slowly. "Shush. And get washed. You're supposed to be relaxing."

Santana pouted at Brittany. It wasn't anywhere near as effective as Brittany knew her own perfected version of 'The Pout' was, but it was enough.

"You know what would make it better?" said Santana, a small grin crossing her face.

"Do you actually want me to guess or are you just going to tell me?" asked Brittany with a small frown. She'd never been very good at this game.

"If you got in with me," said Santana. Obviously not time for guessing then.

"No. Strenuous. Activity!" Brittany repeated. Santana's face fell and she looked down sulkily.

"I didn't mean I wanted to have kinky bath sex," she said miserably. Then a small look of curiosity crossed her face and Brittany had a feeling that this wouldn't be the last she'd hear of this particular idea. "I just thought it would hurt less if I had you to lean on instead of this stupid slanted plastic stuff."

Brittany thought about this for a moment. Well…it did kind make sense. So wrapped up in her own thoughts, she didn't notice the sly look of victory on Santana's face.

"All right then," Brittany agreed. Santana smiled sweetly at her.

As Brittany quickly stripped herself of clothes, she glanced at her wife, who was watching her intently. "Stop leering at me, San," she said, feeling colour rise to her cheeks.

Santana quirked an eyebrow. "Don't think I want to. I'm pretty sure that was part of our wedding vows. 'I promise to let you leer at me whenever you want to'."

"I don't remember that bit," said Brittany with a smirk. Or did she…wait, no. Definitely not.

"It was in the rewrite," Santana assured her. Then she shuffled forward as Brittany climbed in the bath behind her. She then leaned back again and Brittany wrapped her arms around her middle. "Mm. Much better," said Santana, with a small sigh of contentment.

"Don't get used to it," said Brittany, chuckling quietly.

"Enough of the chit-chat," said Santana, glancing at Brittany over her shoulder. "I'm supposed to be relaxing, remember?"

Brittany smiled fondly. "Whatever you want, San."

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Thank you for reading :-)


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Well, I'm back in sunny England. Yay… Didn't pick up as much American slang as I'd have liked, although I have now added 'band-aid' to my repertoire. On the plus side, regular updates again. Huzzah. As always, many many thanks to those who are still reading and to the people who reviewed. Also, Happy New Year, all :-)

I just wanna say thank you to kempokarate12, who has been incredibly helpful in answering a couple of questions I had. You are aces.

Also, just out of curiosity, is anyone else having problems with their story stats on the site? 'cause mine like…aren't working and it makes me sad.

Hope you enjoy Chapter 15!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 15_

When morning arrived, Brittany dragged Santana out of bed with a great deal of difficulty. Sheets tangled around her legs as she squirmed away and mumbled unhappily under her breath; Brittany didn't quite hear all of it, but there were definitely words like 'hate', 'hell', and for some reason 'jetpack', being thrown around. It was only when Brittany suggested that she stay there and call in sick that Santana finally took the initiative and allowed her to help her up and out of the overlarge bed; and it wasn't without a great deal of grumbling and displeased groans either. Helping a pained and grouchy Santana to then get dressed had been a real treat for Brittany too. The intense glare she'd received when she asked her wife if her side felt any better was one she'd treasure for a long time to come.

Though she wasn't one hundred percent positive, she was pretty sure that this was Santana's way of punishing her for refusing her advances last night.

Thankfully, by the time Brittany had woken Callie and the three had made their way down the stairs, Santana was in a much better mood. Or at least she was pretending to be for the sake of their daughter. Based on what Santana was planning to do that morning when she got to school, Brittany imagined it was the latter.

The two hadn't actually spoken about what Santana was going to say to Christina Rains, but Brittany assumed that she'd have some kind of plan of action. Santana was usually pretty awesome at planning; it was why she was so good at chess, though she'd never admit that to anybody. Although, Santana had told Brittany that she only seemed good at chess in comparison to her, because Brittany had never learned. She'd tried once, but it was far too complicated to be fun; plus Santana had become angry and thrown one of the pieces at a wall because Brittany kept asking her why the horse could jump over the castle, because real horses definitely can't jump over castles. The make-up sex had been pretty amazing, but they had made a silent agreement never to speak of that particular incident again. And also to never allow Santana to play board games in public places.

Callie and Santana sat down at the table while Brittany went to work on making breakfast. Usually, cooking for the family was Santana's job. Not because Brittany couldn't, mind you; she just wasn't as good at it. It had been an unexpected discovery when they'd moved in together for the first time, but Santana had turned out to have quite the innate culinary talent. As it was though, she couldn't even lift her arms above her shoulders, so that left the job to Brittany. Not that she minded.

"Mommy?" said Callie after a while.

"Yeah, Cal?" replied Brittany absently.

"Should there be smoke coming out of the toaster?" asked Callie.

Brittany's head whipped around and she bit back a word that would have been completely unsuitable to say in front of her daughter and dashed over to the offending appliance. In the background she could hear Santana trying to stop herself from laughing and frowned unhappily. Why hadn't she told her sooner? In fact, why hadn't she smelt the smoke? She definitely could now.

A yelp escaped her mouth as she pulled out the burning toast from the machine and threw it with expert precision into the bin. She should totally be in some kind of basket ball team or something. Her aim was awesome.

"Oops," she said sheepishly. She looked at Santana, whose eyes were shining with mirth. "Sorry."

"That's okay," replied Santana with a smile. "I didn't want toast anyway."

"Do you want cornflakes?" asked Brittany hopelessly. Santana nodded and Brittany set to work on the slightly easier breakfast with a bit more care this time.

As Brittany reached up to retrieve a bowl from one of the cupboards, she briefly glanced over at Santana. She looked rather odd in the loose fitting white t-shirt she was currently wearing; they'd been unable to get any of her usual small tank tops over her head without it hurting too much. At that particular moment, Santana was staring down at her hands with a carefully concealed look of pain while Callie was chattering animatedly beside her. Brittany immediately felt guilty for ruining first breakfast; Santana couldn't take her painkillers without eating first. Not that they seemed to help all that much.

Brittany suppressed a sigh as she swept over to the oversized fridge to take out the milk. When Santana had finally agreed to take the sleeping tablets the doctor had given her last night, it had been quite a while after they'd intended to go to bed. She had argued that she had a lot of work to catch up on; Brittany knew she was just too scared to go to sleep. As it turned out, the pills seemed to have suppressed Santana's dreams, for which Brittany was intensely grateful.

"What are we doing today?" asked Callie, interrupting Brittany's thoughts.

"What do you want to do?" said Brittany.

"I wanna go and see my granddad," said Callie definitively.

Brittany thought about this for a moment as she handed Santana a bowl of cereal. "I suppose we can go and visit my parents," she agreed.

Then Callie shook her head. "Not them. My other granddad."

The two women froze and Brittany felt her heartbeat quicken. _Not good, not good, not good_.

"What do you mean, sweetie?" asked Santana stiffly. _Uh oh_. That was Santana's 'I'm gonna try to give you the silent treatment for the next ten minutes but then I'm going to lose my temper and start yelling' voice.

Callie looked at her innocently. "The man from the hospital." Brittany flinched. "He was called Doctor Lopez."

Santana's mouth dropped open and she slowly turned her head to look at Brittany.

"Um…"

"_Brittany_?"

"Er…"

"When did you see Doctor Lopez, Cal?" said Santana, her attention momentarily switching.

"When we were leaving the hospital," said Callie. She was cheerfully unaware of the building tension in the room.

Santana nodded her head slowly. "Go and get dressed, Callie."

Callie looked down at her Hello Kitty pyjamas with a frown. "But–"

"Now."

With a quiet huff of protest, Callie jumped down from her chair and stormed from the room. Brittany knew she'd have forgotten about her annoyance by the time she came back down so she wasn't really concerned. Not concerned for Callie anyway. Herself on the other hand…

"You saw my step dad?" asked Santana, her eyes flashing dangerously.

"Erm…" said Brittany. She looked around for an escape. Santana was in the way of the door Callie had just vacated, but the window was looking like a viable option. It was pretty bright outside too, so maybe it would be warm enough for the small shorts and tank top she was wearing…probably not though. It had been super cold yesterday.

"Why didn't you tell me?" said Santana.

There was a pause. "I didn't want to upset you," Brittany admitted.

Santana's shoulders drooped a little and her anger seemed to melt away. It was both a relief and a worry.

"Did he ask about me?" she said in a small voice.

"He told me you give you his best," said Brittany. "And he said he hoped you weren't permanently injured."

"Very thoughtful of him," said Santana dryly. Though her words were dismissive, Brittany could detect the hurt in her voice. "Did he say anything about my mom?" she then said tentatively.

"No," Brittany lied. If she told Santana that her step father had encouraged her not to contact her mother it would only upset her more.

A slightly hysterical laugh escaped Santana's lips and then she grimaced with pain. "You're a terrible liar, Britt."

_Foiled_. "I'm sorry," said Brittany earnestly. She took the seat next to Santana's and wrapped her arm around her.

Santana rested her head on Brittany's shoulder and sighed a little. "I know you are. It's okay. Doesn't matter anyway."

"It matters," said Brittany simply.

"It doesn't. I hate the bitch anyway. I don't care." Her voice was muffled as she buried her face into Brittany's neck.

They both knew she did care. She cared a _lot_. Brittany also knew that talking about it wasn't going to change a single thing. They'd talked it to death many years earlier. Brittany was still optimistic though; she firmly believed that one day, Santana and her mother would reconcile their differences. Her step father…probably not. There was no love lost there. Honestly, Brittany had never really cared for Doctor Lopez anyway. Even when Santana's mother had remarried when Santana was twelve, the man had shown absolutely no interest in his new step daughter. He simply didn't care either way.

When Brittany thought about it, she wasn't sure if the man's indifference had hurt Santana more than outright dislike would have. Though she'd never said it out loud, Brittany had sometimes wondered if Lopez's apathy had fuelled Santana's desperate need for attention throughout high school.

Oh well, she thought sadly, no need to dwell on the past.

At that point, Callie came bounding back into the room, a smile plastered firmly on her face. As Brittany had predicted, she seemed to have forgotten her quick dismissal from the room, as well as her desire to go back to the hospital.

* * *

Santana sat at her desk and anxiously looked around her office. _Sue's office_, she mentally corrected herself. Classes weren't due to start for another half an hour and Christina had yet to show up. She bit her lip and looked back at the email she'd been attempting to write since seven am; so far she had six words and she was pretty sure she was going to have to rewrite them because at first glance she noticed that she'd spelt the guy's name wrong.

There was a knock on the door and Santana jumped. _Ouch_…

"Come in," she called weakly.

There was a pause before the door handle slowly turned and Christina stepped into the room with a guarded expression on her face. Though she didn't feel much like doing so, Santana smiled at her by way of greeting. The girl didn't return it.

"Sit down," said Santana, trying to mask her nervousness by looking back at her computer.

With some reluctance, Christina sat down on the chair in front of Santana's desk. Frankly, Santana was surprised she'd even shown up; but then she thought back to her own time in the Cheerios and how she'd bend over backwards to please Sue Sylvester. At one point she'd actually become anorexic for a couple of weeks, before Brittany began to imitate her and she realised what a stupid idea it was. Her compliance was mainly because she was afraid of the repercussions if she didn't follow Sue's instructions to the letter…that woman was terrifying beyond compare. Though Santana knew she wasn't exactly an easy person to like, she didn't think she was quite as scary as Sue was. Maybe. There were definitely fewer fierce tantrums on her part anyway. She also had yet to physically assault any of her students.

Christina began to tap her foot uneasily, so Santana visibly switched her attention. It wasn't fair to make her wait.

"How are you feeling this morning?" asked Santana. She wanted to ease into the conversation.

Christina shrugged. "I'm okay."

There was an awkward pause and Christina glanced down at her nails; it was an obvious attempt to appear nonchalant. Santana knew the trick well, having used it on more than one occasion herself. It was practically her signature move.

"Are you really," said Santana. It wasn't a question.

"Why wouldn't I be?" replied Christina; she seemed to be making an effort not to snap, but wasn't doing a very good job of it. Normally, Santana would have been seriously pissed off, but she understood how hard this was for the girl and held her tongue.

"Well," said Santana, stalling for time as she thought of the best way to phrase her questions, "_I'm_ not okay."

A look of surprise and confusion crossed Christina's face. "Because you broke your ribs?" she asked. Santana almost smiled at that for some reason.

"No," she replied. "Well…yes," she corrected. "I'll tell you this for nothing; taking a swan dive down a flight of wooden stairs isn't something you wanna be doing."

"You fell down the stairs?" said Christina, a smirk playing about her lips. Santana felt her cheeks redden a little; she hadn't meant to let that slip. If that became school gossip she was tracking this girl down. "Does it hurt?"

"Only when I move, sit, stand and breathe," said Santana with a wry smirk. "But that's…not important right now. We're talking about you."

"It doesn't feel like we are," said Christina. She folded her arms and she shot a fleeting look at the door.

Santana sighed. This was already harder than she'd thought it would be. She had absolutely no idea how to deal with this. She _wasn't qualified_.

"I want to talk about your father," she said finally. Christina's shoulders became tense and she drew her arms closer into her body.

"I'm sorry he tried to hit you," said the girl quietly.

"It wasn't your fault," Santana was quick to reassure her. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

Christina made a small noise of disagreement but didn't say anything. Santana frowned. She couldn't possibly be blaming herself for her psychotic father's actions? Well, she thought, she didn't actually know if he was psychotic. Santana was still struggling to separate what had actually happened with the 'night terror' she'd had.

"He doesn't like the idea of me leaving," said Christina with a hint of bitterness. Then she muttered something under her breath about him having nobody to wash his socks and Santana bit back a surge of anger.

"I don't like the idea of Finn Hudson making more money than me for doing less work, but I don't launch myself at innocent bystanders for mentioning it," Santana pointed out. Not the best analogy, perhaps…

"He was already in a bad mood," replied Christina defensively. Santana chose to ignore this and wondered if 'bad mood' was code for 'drunk'.

"What I take issue with," Santana began slowly, "was how quickly he jumped to violence as a response to something he didn't like."

"He doesn't usually," replied Christina far too quickly, then she cringed; presumably because the lie sounded obvious even to herself.

For a few moments, Santana didn't say anything. The two simply stared at each other, neither sure what the other would say next. In that moment, Santana realised how much this girl reminded her of herself. Despite the girl's dark eyes and hair, they didn't look anything alike. Christina was kind of pale and pointy and didn't have any of Santana's physical presence. If she hadn't been a Cheerio then Santana had a feeling she'd be more of a 'fade into the background' kind of person. Maybe without Dianne Apple to lead her on, she would have been just that. But no. It was the way her hollow gaze would drift when she thought that nobody was looking, quickly to be replaced with a staunch look of defiance at the drop of a hat. Or maybe it was the anger bubbling away just under the surface that Santana had glimpsed once or twice. Or maybe it was the way she would hide behind sarcasm and a well placed eye roll; a tactic that Santana was intimately acquainted with.

It had perhaps been the unconscious recognition that had interested Santana in the first place. She knew from experience that all the Cheerios would be severely bruised after a particularly gruelling practice, but something about Christina had drawn Santana's attention in a way that none of the other girls had. She was sure that Miss. Pillsbury…Mrs. Schuester…would have some fascinating insight on the matter if she cared to ask. She wouldn't though, because Santana could handle this. Or maybe she should have asked the guidance councillor for her advice before even having this little meeting. Oh, the benefit of hindsight.

"Christina," said Santana. The silence had been drawn out for long enough. "You don't have to lie to me. I know you don't really want to."

"I'm not lying," she replied; her voice was weary and tired. Santana wondered if even Christina knew why she was protecting the man.

"I noticed you, you know," said Santana quietly. "As soon as I got here. Even before we had our first little talk."

Christina was shifting uncomfortably in her chair and looking out of the window at the students milling about outside as they waited for the school bell. Any kind of distraction would do, Santana guessed.

"I can see the way you're always with your friends but you're not really _with_ them at the same time. I can see the way some days are worse than others for you," she continued musingly. "I could have ignored it all. In fact, it would have made my life a lot easier to. But I didn't. And do you know why?"

Their eyes met again and Santana was taken aback by the emptiness she saw there. Suddenly, her words felt wholly inadequate. Nevertheless, she would plough on.

"I'm sure you won't believe me, but it's because I care," said Santana. Christina snorted humourlessly.

"Do you," said Christina. It was obvious she didn't want an actual answer.

"Yeah, Rains. I do," said Santana sadly. "I know you have no reason to trust me, but you can. I can help you."

Christina sneered coldly at her and Santana wondered how many times she'd heard these kinds of empty promises.

"Spare me the false sympathy," said Christina with a disgusted shake of her head. "I don't need your _help_. There's nothing I need help with."

She'd expected resistance, but she hadn't expected such horror and revulsion to be directed at her.

"Does your father hit you, Christina?" asked Santana. Fast, she thought, like a band-aid.

Christina glared at her. "No!" she said vehemently. Santana felt her heart sink as Christina pushed herself to her feet, knocking her chair sideways and onto the ground with a crash. "How dare you!"

"Wait," Santana cried as the girl spun around to exit the room. Christina paid her no attention and Santana foolishly jumped to her feet to grab her. She gasped in pain and clutched at her desk to stop herself from toppling over as the girl made a speedy escape from the room. _Goddamnit_.

A couple of minutes later, when she finally regained control of her breathing, Santana sat back down despondently and buried her head in her hands. _That could have gone better_.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Thank you for reading :-)


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Aloha, all. Muchas gracias to everyone still reading and to those who have reviewed :-)

This chapter kind of got away from me… Sorry for how excessively long it is. Originally planned for this to take up about a third of a normal sized chapter; things did not work out that way.

Hope you enjoy Chapter 16!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 16_

A couple of hours had passed since her talk with Christina, and Santana's mood had far from improved. It didn't help that she was cooped up in a tiny office without the energy to go elsewhere. She may have strongly disagreed on the 'bed rest' issue, but after the little park fiasco, she wasn't going to make the same mistake twice by wandering corridors full of rabid teenagers. She was stubborn; not stupid.

There was a tentative knock on the door and Santana clenched her hands into fists. _One…two…three…four…five_… She took a deep, calming breath.

"Come in," she said finally.

The door opened remarkably slowly and in stepped an unfamiliar girl. Santana paused and furrowed her brows; she kind of recognised her but couldn't quite place her.

"Hi, Mrs. Lopez," she said nervously. "I was wondering if I could talk to you about something?"

Santana took in her long blonde hair and bright blue eyes. Maybe she wanted to be a Cheerio; she had the right body type for it.

"All right," said Santana, pursing her lips as the girl closed the door behind her and then sat down. When the girl didn't say anything, Santana began to tap her fingers impatiently. "Was there something specific you'd like to discuss?"

"Yes," said the girl timidly. She then proceeded to offer up no further information.

_Seriously_? She had stuff to freakin' do!

"Do you want to tell me your name then or something?" said Santana in a harsher voice than she'd intended. "This sitting in silence thing you've got going on is an unacceptable waste of my time."

The girl flinched and for a second, Santana thought she was going to bolt for the door. "I'm Hazel Clements. I'm in the Glee Club."

It would be a lie if Santana said she remembered the girl; she must have been sat at the back. Her voice had an oddly soft quality to it and she spoke in a way that suggested she wasn't accustomed to people actually listening to her. There was something kind of sad about it.

"Okay," said Santana slowly. "Glee Club. Yeah. Is it Schuester? Is he forbidding you all to sing songs that weren't created and performed by Journey?"

"Er…no," said Hazel, her delicate features knitting together in confusion. "Well, yes. I don't mind though. He likes them."

As she wracked her brain, trying to figure out what this girl wanted from her, Santana briefly considered the idea that maybe she had a crush on Mr. Schue. She quickly dismissed the notion however, because that was just wrong on many levels. Although, hadn't Berry stalked him for a while? Hmm. Maybe she was too quick in her dismissal of the idea. That didn't explain why the kid would want to talk to _her_ about it though.

"I'm glad," said Santana finally, "Because nothing will ever stop that man from indulging in his love of Journey. Believe me; I tried. We _all_ tried."

Hazel shot her a strained smile before her gaze fell back down to her hands, where she played with the bottom of her shirt nervously.

"Is it my Cheerios?" asked Santana. "Are they bothering you?"

The girl shook her head. "I don't think they even know I exist."

Santana resumed her finger tapping. There wasn't really much to go on here.

"All right, well I'm going to carry on working," said Santana after a moment. She would clutch at straws no longer. "Whenever you feel like talking, please feel free."

Santana returned her attention back to her laptop and reread the email she'd just written. She then deleted an entire paragraph, deciding that it was far too polite. 'Please' and 'thank you' had never got her anywhere useful in work before, so why bother starting now she reasoned. Santana picked up her pencil to scribble down a few notes.

"I think I'm in love," said the girl suddenly. Santana looked up slowly.

"That's…nice," said Santana with a raised eyebrow. "And that fact that you decided to come and talk to me about it is…completely normal. What's his name?"

"Jessica."

Oh…_Oh_.

"Jessica," Santana repeated faintly. "I don't suppose…"

"She's a she," Hazel confirmed softly. Her cheeks had become a deep shade of red and Santana was a little disturbed to notice that she was visibly shaking.

Hang on…had this girl just _come out_ to her? Seriously?

"Have you um…thought about speaking to Miss. Pillsbury?" said Santana, awkwardly fidgeting with her pencil.

"I tried that," said Hazel despairingly. Her gaze drifted away and Santana wondered if she were having a flashback. Either way, she'd never really have expected the meek guidance councillor to have been much help.

"Friends or your parents?" asked Santana when the girl broke from her reverie.

"I don't really have any friends…" said Hazel, blushing once more. "I haven't told my parents."

_Great. _

"I'm not really sure what you want from me," said Santana, suppressing a sigh.

Judging from the look on her face, Hazel didn't seem quite sure of what she wanted either. Maybe it was just somebody to talk to, thought Santana sadly. If there had been a role model that she herself could have spoken to back during high school, perhaps there'd have been a bit less drama. A _good_ female role model, that was. There had been Sue, but the woman had never seemed to much care for Santana and rather focussed her attention on Quinn. Honestly though, Santana had never really felt the emotional connection to their coach that Quinn sometimes had. Maybe if there had been somebody else for her to speak to, she wouldn't have hurt Brittany quite so often in her desperate attempt to deny who she was to herself and everybody around her.

"Okay," said Santana, resolving to at least try to help the kid. "How long have you been in love with um…Jessica, was it?"

"About a year," the girl all but whispered.

"Probably not just a phase then," Santana muttered, mainly to herself.

"I joined the Glee Club to be close to her," said Hazel, bowing her head so her hair fell in front of her face, "But she still doesn't even know who I am."

"Have you tried, I don't know…talking to her?" suggested Santana. Hazel's head shot up and she looked at Santana like she'd completely lost her mind. "I'll take that as a no..."

Hazel shook her head and her shoulders sagged dejectedly.

"I thought that maybe I could…pretend that I don't love her," said Hazel wistfully. "Then she purposely broke up the Glee Club's 'it-couple' because she thought they were stealing her spotlight at Sectionals. I didn't even care how mean it was as long as it made her happy."

Deciding not to comment on that, Santana made what she hoped was a sympathetic noise and nodded her head. Brittany would have been far better at this.

"I don't want people to know that I'm…gay," said Hazel quietly. "I never really liked boys, but I've never really liked girls either. Not until _her_."

_Not until her_. That was something that Santana could relate to.

"You married your high school girlfriend," said Hazel unexpectedly.

"Yeah…" said Santana slowly.

The girl hesitated. "How did you…know? You know? Like…know."

"That I loved her?" asked Santana. Hazel nodded. "I think on some level I always knew. We were best friends from as far back as I can remember."

"And…what did she say? When you told her," asked Hazel hopefully. Santana bit her lip; it was kind of cute that the kid thought that she'd have been the one to say it first.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_The last notes of the song faded away and Santana swallowed. Up until that point, all she had been aware of was Brittany; Brittany and the uncomfortable twisting sensation in the pit of her stomach. Then the rest of the Glee club swam into focus and heat rushed to Santana's face. They were gaping between the two cheerleaders completely slack jawed and baffled. Suddenly, the room was hot. Far too hot. She unwillingly pushed herself to her feet and a crestfallen look descended upon Brittany's face._

_Quinn raised her hand to shield her eyes and Santana's breathing sped up. _

"_San…" said Brittany softly, pleadingly. "Please…" _

_But Santana didn't hear any of it. Blood pounded in her ears as she unwittingly backed away from the small crowd of people; watching her, judging her. _

"_Please don't," Brittany whispered. Santana shook her head. She couldn't breathe. _Why was everyone staring at her_? _

_She needed to…she needed to leave. Now. _

"_Wait!" _

_But Santana was already gone. She fled from the room, completely ignoring the cries of protest in her wake and trying desperately not to think of the heartbroken expression she'd caught on Brittany's face during her escape. _

_No. No. No. _

_It was too much. _

_Far too much and far too soon. _

_Santana liked to pretend that the broken sobs she could hear coming from the choir room were in her imagination. _

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Mm," said Santana, feeling her cheeks redden a little. "She was…very receptive to the idea when I, you know, told her I loved her the first time."

"Really?" asked Hazel hopefully.

"Brittany and I have never exactly had the most…orthodox relationship, but we were together for a couple of years before there was any talk of serious feelings," Santana pointed out, not wanting the girl to get the wrong idea. She also decided that filling the girl in on the exact nature of their relationship before that would have been wildly inappropriate, and thus kept her mouth firmly closed on the subject.

"Oh," replied Hazel, her downtrodden demeanour returning almost instantly.

Santana bit her lip; somehow she felt like she was somehow making things worse. But seriously? What cosmic force had inflicted this upon her? Right after her attempt at talking to Christina too. She felt like she was being punished for a crime she hadn't committed. Or, on second thought, probably had committed and just didn't remember.

Was the falling down the stairs disaster not enough?

Hazel was staring at her intently. "What about other students? Did they bully you?"

Apparently not.

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_About four days had passed since the incident in the choir room…well, three days, eighteen hours and twenty-four minutes to be exact, but who was counting? Santana still hadn't spoken to Brittany, and with every extra passing minute, she felt as though the vice-like grip on her heart tightened just a little bit more. It didn't help that every time she passed a member of Glee Club, they'd glare at her like she was the embodiment of Hitler, Stalin and Attila the Hun all rolled into one. Everyone minus Kurt, anyway; the guy had actually been kind of good to her for the last few days. He was completely off the mark in his proclamations of her closeted status, but at least he didn't seem to wish her pain and ill. Unlike Quinn, who had actively searched her out the following morning and slapped her hard across the face. Santana hadn't even been able to gather the strength to fight back. _

_Last night, she'd decided to skip Glee. She imagined she wouldn't be welcome, and honestly just didn't think she could face being with Brittany in such an enclosed space for so long. It shouldn't be this hard, Santana thought despondently as she wandered in the general direction of her locker. _

_Not even throwing a slushie on the freshman that reminded her of Rachel Berry had made her feel any better. Deep down, Santana knew that there was only one thing that would make her feel less like someone was physically ripping out her heart._

_She passed by a group of younger students, who practically scattered to escape her as she walked by them. She hadn't really paid much attention, but since Brittany had sang to her, people seemed to be giving her quite a wide berth; it wasn't clear whether it was because Santana was visibly bitchier than usual, or if people had heard about the very public denouncement of what they assumed was a friendship to defy the ages and thus knew that Santana would be on the warpath. Either way, she was grateful that she didn't have to deal with the daily annoyances of you know…interacting with lesser beings. _

_Santana arrived at her locker and began to shove books in it with more force than was strictly necessary. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see two of the Cheerios, whose names escaped her, watching her and giggling about something behind their hands. It didn't take a genius to figure out what it was; news of Brittany's choir room declaration had spread around the school like wildfire. How anyone outside of Glee had found out about it was quite beyond Santana, but that didn't really matter. It wouldn't surprise her if Jacob Ben Israel had the music room bugged or something so he could more easily stalk Berry. Or possibly Sue; now that was a frightening thought. _

_Books securely in place, Santana slammed her locker door closed and stalked off in the opposite direction to the Cheerios. There was no point in starting a fight with them; it just wasn't worth the hassle she'd get from Sue for potentially ripping their uniforms. _

_Besides, based on what Kurt had told her, the attention _she_ was receiving from the other students was about a hundred times worse for Brittany. Her heart clenched painfully with guilt and sorrow before she pushed the blonde swiftly from her mind. Or at least she tried to. _

_Santana didn't love Brittany. She was sure that the timing of the sleepless nights she'd endured and the way she felt like there were large parts of her soul missing was completely coincidental._

_Goddamnit. Why did Brittany have to go and ruin everything! _

_She thought they'd been doing so well. It had taken a while, but eventually the two had worked past the singing about lady babies episode and, once Brittany and Artie had broken up, things seemed to have gone back to normal. Until apparently Brittany had decided that just wasn't enough for her. Could they not have talked about it first? Why did she have to go and sing that stupid song at her in front of _everyone_? _I bet Rachel Berry had something to do with it,_ Santana thought darkly. Santana Lopez didn't love anybody. Especially not another girl. Except…_

_A loud crash rudely disrupted Santana from her bleak musings. _

_She rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks. _

_Brittany's books all lay scattered on the floor while no fewer than three Cheerios stood threateningly around the girl in question. Brittany, for her part, displayed no fear; only hurt and confusion. Santana recognised what was happening for what it was though. _

_She was too far away to hear exactly what was being said, but she was fairly sure one of them had just accused Brittany of perving on her in the locker room. Brittany shook her head frantically and Santana took a reflexive step forward. None of them had noticed her yet. Not that her presence should make a difference, right? _

"_I didn't," Brittany said innocently. "I wouldn't do that…" _

_The tallest Cheerio, Santana thought her name was Joanne, scoffed disbelievingly. "Yeah. Right," she said sceptically. "The biggest slut in the school _doesn't _gay perv on the cheerleaders."_

_Brittany's eyes filled with tears and Santana's hands unconsciously balled themselves into fists as a smattering of laughter rang out from the group of jocks stood close by._

"_I don't think she should be allowed to get changed in the same room as us," one of the other girls commented. _

_The tall one nodded in agreement. "Do you hear that, Pierce? Nobody wants you near them," she said cruelly. "Not even that bitch you call your best friend." _

_Santana's breath caught in her throat as a few tears made their way down Brittany's face. _

"_Dyke," the tall one said, shoving Brittany backwards and into the locker. There was a collective gasp of the growing crowd; Santana didn't hear it as she marched forward, shoving people to the side as she fought her way to Brittany. _

_The look of horror on the tall Cheerio's face was unmistakable as she saw Santana approaching. As rage coursed through her veins, Santana almost lunged for the terrified looking cheerleader, but a gentle hand grasped her upper arm. _

"_Don't, Santana," said Brittany's broken voice. "Please." _

_Santana felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Her hands slowly unclenched and she dimly noted several sharp, red crescent shapes now marking her palms. Somehow unable to stop herself, Santana slowly turned around. _

_Santana's dark eyes clashed with Brittany's clear blue ones and the two girls froze in place. More tears ran down Brittany's cheeks and Santana instinctively reached forward to brush them away with her thumbs. Brittany flinched away from Santana's touch and her gaze fell to the ground. _

"_Brittany," said Santana, her voice unexpectedly hoarse. "I'm–"_

"_Don't say sorry," said Brittany quickly. "Not if–"_

_She wasn't sure what pushed her to do it; she just knew that something inside her suddenly snapped. Before Brittany could finish her sentence, Santana grabbed hold of her uniform and pulled her down, their lips crashing together with painful force. _

_A small squeak escaped Brittany's lips, but she eagerly responded as Santana pressed their bodies together. Around them students jeered and laughed mockingly, but for once in her life, Santana didn't care. She only cared about somehow conveying to Brittany how much she meant to her. And if the rest of the school had a problem with it? Who the hell gave a damn. _

_The kiss started out heated, but gradually began to slow down. Brittany's hands where resting on Santana's waist, and somehow her own arms had found their way around Brittany's neck. The reasons for Santana not wanting to do this somehow seemed ridiculously insignificant now. Why hadn't they been doing this all along? _

"_Damn," said a familiar voice very close to them. _

"_They'll have to come up for air in a minute," remarked Kurt. _

_The two girls broke apart, but didn't look away from each other. Brittany's cheeks were tinged with pink and her erratic breathing matched Santana's. _

"_Brittany," Santana began, "I–"_

_Brittany's hand shot up and she placed a silencing finger on Santana's lips. _

"_Not yet," she said. Her eyes were still sad but Santana recognised a hint of optimism._

_Santana nodded and watched mutely as Mercedes handed Brittany a stack of books which she seemed to have picked up from the floor without either of them noticing. _

"_It's a start," said Brittany, with a sad smile. Then she turned on her heel, and walked purposefully out of sight._

_It took a few moments for Santana to realise that the entire corridor was empty apart from herself, Mercedes and Kurt. Noticing her confusion, Mercedes helpfully informed her that the bell had gone a couple of minutes ago. Santana nodded wordlessly. _

"_The words 'I told you so' just don't seem adequate," said Kurt thoughtfully. _

_Santana's head whipped around and she glared at him; he was unsurprisingly unperturbed. _

"_Yeah…well…Shut up!" Santana finished ineloquently. _

_As she stalked away from the duo, their laughter rang out tauntingly behind her. _

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Er…Mrs. Lopez?" said Hazel.

"Mm?" replied Santana absently.

"You haven't spoken in almost four minutes and you're starting to freak me out…" said the girl nervously. Santana blinked and cleared her throat.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. Then she realised where she was and who she was talking to. Damn. Apologising to a student? That's just sick and wrong. Nobody is scared of someone who _apologises_.

"I asked if you were bullied," said Hazel, her voice a little stronger now.

Santana pursed her lips as she thought how best to respond; she didn't want to put the girl off, but she also didn't want to lie to her.

"For a while," said Santana finally. "The novelty wore off eventually."

The girl looked down sadly. "She's already bullied. I don't want to make things worse for her."

Realisation suddenly struck and Santana knew exactly who this Jessica was. That was what Miss. Pillsbury had called the girl who had been tied to a goalpost on the football field.

"She's still bullied? Is it the Cheerios?" asked Santana, careful to keep the anger from her voice.

Hazel pulled a face. "Since you erm…yelled at Kate and Cheryl, the Cheerios have pretty much left everyone alone. They haven't slushied or punched anyone anyway."

"But?"

"The Cheerios aren't the only students at this school," said Hazel sadly.

Santana sighed, and immediately wished she hadn't as a sharp, protesting pain shot across her rib cage. She grimaced and bit her lip.

"Well," said Santana, after the pain had subsided, "I suggest you talk to her before making any grand gestures. You're in Glee so I assume you've already considered singing a song to her?"

The girls face flushed and she nodded. "I'm not a very good singer," she said, her voice tainted with shame.

"You've sang in front of people before?" asked Santana curiously. Hazel shook her head vehemently and Santana smiled. "How do you know you're bad if you've never tried?"

"I…I can't," said the blonde fearfully. "Everyone would laugh at me."

"I'm sure they wouldn't," said Santana confidently. "Not in Glee. What were you thinking of singing?"

Hazel looked down at her hands. "Iris by Goo Goo Dolls," she muttered.

As Santana thought about the lyrics to the song, her disposition darkened. Had kids always been this angst-ridden or was this something new? She thought back on her own time in high school and quickly concluded that no, it was definitely not a new development.

"We'll call that Plan B," said Santana firmly. A look of terror crossed Hazel's face, but she nodded enthusiastically. Santana suppressed a yawn. All this 'helping' malarkey sure was tiring.

"What's Plan A?" asked Hazel.

"The first thing you're going to do is talk to her," said Santana, raising an eyebrow. Hazel's eyes widened, but she nodded slowly.

"Okay. Yeah. I think I can do that," she said anxiously.

"You _can_," Santana corrected her.

"I can," Hazel agreed. Then she smiled at Santana. _Actually_ smiled. Santana's mood lifted considerably. "Thank you," she said with feeling.

"No problem," replied Santana as the girl rose to her feet. "Just let me know how it goes."

"I will," she said earnestly, before moving to exit the room.

When she reached the door, she paused and looked back at Santana. "It's worth it, right?"

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_Santana tapped her foot in a speedy, staccato rhythm against the floor as she waited for the rest of the Glee club to arrive. She was dimly aware of Puck placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, but it did little to ease her nervousness. She appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless._

_Mr. Schue was unsubtly watching her from his position by the piano with a considering look on his face; he'd been almost reluctant when Santana had made her request to him just a few minutes before. Being the pushover her was, however, he had soon agreed to Santana's wishes…well, more like demands, really. He hadn't stood a chance; no man had ever said 'no' to Santana before, which also explained why Puck sat beside her, guitar in hand. _

"_Lopez, calm down," Puck hissed, causing her to jump and scowl at him. "I've seen men headed to the electric chair who look less tightly wound than you do right now." _

"_Shut up, Puckerman," snapped Santana. _

_Puck held up his hands. "Hey, if you don't want my help I could just–" _

"_Don't you dare!" said Santana, grabbing his shirt roughly. Puck grinned at her and she fought back the urge to punch him in the face. _

"_Just relax," he said in a quiet voice. "If you puke on my new shoes, I'm gonna be pissed." _

"_Noted," said Santana, taking a deep breath and releasing her death-like grip on the inoffensive material of Puck's shirt. _

"_It's going to be fine." _

"_Yeah," said Santana. Puck raised an eyebrow._

"_Next time try saying that with a bit of feeling," he suggested. Santana's glower returned. _

_Then Brittany came in the room, Kurt in tow. The little ball of nausea that had been resting in her stomach for the entire day seemed to increase violently and it took every ounce of self-control Santana possessed not to bolt from the room. Brittany glanced over at her, and seemed completely unsurprised to her sat at the side with Puck; like she'd been completely expecting it. A small smile graced her features and immediately Santana swallowed against panic that was rising within her and a strange sense of calm washed over her. She was ready. She could do this. For Brittany. _

_When everyone was seated, Mr. Schue rose to his seat and greeted everyone in his customary manner. _

"_But before we start." Santana's heart leapt to her throat. "I think Santana would like to say something." _

_Mr. Schue gestured to her and Santana shakily rose to her feet and walked to the middle of the room._ One foot in front of the other, _she told herself angrily as her legs seemed to be struggling to follow the commands her head was sending._

"_Er…hi," Santana began nervously, well aware of the several glares that were being aimed in her direction. "Okay, so I know you all pretty much hate me, which is…fair. But if it helps, I don't think any of you come even close to hating me as much as I hate myself right now."_

_In an effort to stop their obvious, uncontrollable shaking, Santana clasped her hands tightly in front of her. Then she slowly looked up, and her eyes met Brittany's. She smiled a little at her and Santana took a deep, steadying breath. _

"_I just…I just needed to say that, Brittany, I am so…so sorry." _

_Incredulous glances were being exchanged between everyone in the room. Everyone but Brittany and Kurt, that was, who were nodding encouragingly. _

"_There literally just…aren't enough words in the world for me to tell you just how sorry I am for being such a fu–"_

"_Santana!" said Mr. Schue warningly. _

_Santana cleared her throat awkwardly and began again. "I've been such a jackass." _

_Quinn let out a derisive laugh and muttered something that sounded remarkably like the words, "Understatement on the century." Brittany poked her in the leg and shushed her. _

"_Yeah," said Santana in agreement. Her palms were sweating profusely and at the moment, she was amazed that she hadn't passed out yet. "I've been the world's biggest bitch, and I don't deserve anything from any of you. I'm just…I'm so sorry, for every mean thing I ever said or did. I know there's no excuse and you have no reason to believe me, but I am. I was just…too scared to act any differently._

"_Brittany," she then said, directly addressing the blonde once again. "I'm so sorry for every single time I made you feel bad about yourself. When we were young, I told myself I would never let anybody hurt you…and then I went and fu- erm, broke my own Goddamn rule. _

"_The fact is," said Santana with a small sigh, "everything I do is a million times better when you're doing it with me. _

"_From now on, I'm going to do every single thing I can to keep you around. I won't complain next time you want to go to the dance studio at half past four in the morning. I won't flirt with anyone that isn't you. Hell, I won't even _talk_ to anyone else if you don't want me to. And if you want to sing about making lady babies in front of the entire school, I'll do that too." _

_Everyone exchanged confused looks at that last part. _

"_I don't give a crap if I get tossed in the dumpster every single day for the rest of my life, as long as you can eventually forgive me for being the universe's biggest fuck up." _

"_Santana!" _

_She ignored Schue and looked deeply into Brittany's tear-filled gaze. _

"_I promise I'll spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. _

"_I love you, Britt. Always have, always will." _

_She knew there were tears in her own eyes now and she swallowed against the lump in her throat. Then Puck appeared next to her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. _

"_You did good, Lopez," he whispered quietly in her ear. A small smile crossed her face and she nodded a little. _

"_Anyway, I er…picked a song that I thought you'd like," she said anxiously, once again to Brittany. "Being the kind soul he is, Puck offered to help me." _

"_She threatened to set fire to my pick-up truck if I didn't," Puck deadpanned. Santana shot him a furious look, but he simply smiled guilelessly at her. _

_Puck strummed his guitar once and then quickly shifted into the first notes of Santana's choice of song. It wasn't something she'd normally have chosen, and originally she'd gone for something that focussed more on the 'I'm sorry' message, but Puck had argued that Brittany would prefer something a little more cheerful. _

_Her whole body shook, but when she began to sing, her voice was thankfully steady. _

One day, I'll see you walking and  
One day, we'll get to talking and  
I'll say, ever since I set eyes on you...  
You know it's true

I put your locket in my heart  
Keeping you close no matter where you are  
'Cause it all works out

_God, I hope it works out, Santana silently added. _

Images in black and white  
Playing back this moment in my mind  
'Cause you always shine

_Through her tears, Brittany smiled at this and Santana couldn't help her own smile in return._

One day, I'll see you walking and  
One day, we'll get to talking and  
I'll say, ever since I set eyes on you...  
You know it's true

_Santana took a deep breath and sent out a quick mental prayer to anyone who might be listening. _

Is it alright, is it alright  
If I tell you how I feel?  
If it's alright, if it's alright…  
I just wanted you to know  
How I do adore you so

_The song ended and Santana couldn't bring herself to raise her head. She didn't think her heart could take it if they were all still glaring at her with that look of utter revulsion. As it turned out, she didn't need to. _

_Something very heavy crashed into her, knocking her backwards. Before she could fall, two strong hands grasped at her Cheerios uniform and Brittany pressed her soft lips to Santana's. It was a curious role reversal of the previous day. _

_It didn't last very long, but it still left Santana reeling when Brittany pulled back and smiled softly at her. That was when Santana noticed that the rest of the Glee club were clapping enthusiastically. _

"_Definitely a good start," said Brittany in her ear. A joyful smile spread across Santana's face and Brittany laughed at her. It was the most amazing sound Santana had ever heard. _

"_I love you, Britt," said Santana honestly. _

_Brittany smiled. "I love you too." _

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

"Yeah," said Santana, glancing at the picture of Brittany and Callie on the background of her computer screen. She smiled. "It's worth it."

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **If anyone is interested in listening to the songs I mentioned in this chapter, I've put links to them on my fanfic livejournal (cognitivism). I recommend that last one (You Know It's True – Jules Larson) 'cause it's a very nice song.

Sorry for any mistakes; it took me so long to write this that I can't bring myself to proof it again just yet.

Thank you for reading!


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **'ello, my lovelies. I'm very glad that people enjoyed the last chapter :-) Especially seem as how it took what felt like my entire life to write. Thank you to everyone who read and/or reviewed it! And also, I'm sorry I didn't reply to some of the reviews (I usually try and reply to everyone, 'cause ya know, it's polite to!) but I wasn't sure which ones I'd already responded to and didn't want to bombard people with confusing double messages.

Hope you enjoy Chapter 17.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 17_

"What the hell is your problem today?" Dianne raged.

It was only lunch and already Christina had snapped at three random Cheerios for reasons that didn't even make sense. Usually, Dianne found it highly amusing, but today it was just getting on her nerves. Even Charlotte was beginning to look a little uneasy; probably because she was worried about somehow incurring the dark haired girl's wrath.

Christina scowled deeply and folded her arms across her chest. "I don't have a problem. You're the one who's freaking out over _nothing_."

The four girls were currently loitering in the Cheerios locker room to avoid being spotted by nosy teachers. They'd decided to skip Spanish because…well, just because. Spanish was almost as lame as the teacher they had for it. Seriously, someone needed to give Mr. Schuester a good slap across the face. It was a good job that Sue was usually around to make sure he didn't get ideas above his station.

"What did Lopez say to you, Chris?" asked Charlotte quietly. The other three girls ignored her completely.

Dianne drew herself up to her full height, which admittedly still wasn't as tall as Christina, but it made her feel far more 'head bitch in charge' than her previous slouch had. That's right. She was going to pull rank on that ungrateful moron.

"You're coming to Cheerios practice with us. End of discussion," said Dianne firmly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Julia flinch a little; then she saw the rage flash in Christina's eyes and quickly realised why.

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Christina fumed.

"We're your friends," said Charlotte, once again not loudly enough for anyone to really register that she was talking.

"I'm your captain," said Dianne with more confidence than she felt. "And if I say you're coming to practice, you're coming to freakin' practice!"

Christina's face twitched and for a moment, Dianne thought she was actually going to punch her.

"I'm not going to cheerleading practice today. I don't feel like it," said Christina, leaving a pause between each word to make sure she got her point across. "Satan will just have to deal."

Dianne felt the bottom of her jaw slide from side to side in anger; a habit she'd picked up from her father.

"If you don't come it will throw off everyone's balance," Julia pointed out reasonably.

"I don't care about the stupid Cheerios!" Christina shouted.

The other three girls gasped in horror and Dianne clapped her hand over her mouth. Words like blasphemy and sacrilege floated around her head, but before Dianne could work past her shock to force them out, Christina had thrown her hands up and stalked away from the group.

"I think she's upset," said Charlotte quietly as the door to the locker room slammed close with an almighty bang.

"Shut up!"

* * *

Brittany's clear laughter rang throughout the house as Santana relayed the day's events to her. Apparently the idea of Santana trying to deal with a hormonal teenage girl coming out to her was highly amusing to her wife.

At the moment, the small family were gathered in the sitting room and exchanging stories from their day. Or at least, Santana was at this point. As much as she loved the kid, there was only so many elaborate tales about what other people in the park had been doing that day from Callie, whose active imagination had encouraged her to give a great deal of back story to every stranger she came across, Santana could listen to. One of the boys on the swings had apparently been a young Superman in training. Thankfully, Callie had lost interest in what Santana was saying, and was currently glued to the TV, head propped up by her elbows and fully engrossed in an old episode of the Gummi Bears.

"It's not that funny," Santana grumbled.

"I know," said Brittany, wiping away an imaginary tear and patting Santana on the leg in a most patronising manner. "I'm sure you did great."

"I so did," mumbled Santana.

Or at least, she thought she had. As Santana reflected back on the conversation, she wished she'd said more to the girl. It was too late now, of course; Santana just hoped that everything went well, because nobody should be as alone as Hazel seemed to be.

"What about the other thing?" said Brittany, successfully rousing Santana from her musings. She felt her good mood evaporate instantly. "That well?" asked Brittany, obviously sensing the change.

Santana nodded grimly and Brittany reached across the sofa to clasp their hands together.

"What happened?" asked Brittany sympathetically.

Santana's shoulders felt strangely heavy as she shrugged wearily. "I think I scared her away," she admitted. "She was getting angry with me and I just…asked her if he hit her and she stormed out."

"I thought you had a plan," said Brittany, idly tracing shapes onto Santana's hand with her thumb. "The slow build up thing."

"The best laid plans of mice and men…" replied Santana.

"You're not a mouse or a man," Brittany pointed out.

"Thank God," said Santana. Brittany hummed in agreement and for a moment, Santana was convinced that the woman was imagining what their lives would be like if they were indeed, mice. Or men, perhaps.

"I don't really like cheese," said Brittany. Mice it is. "What are you going to do?"

While Santana pondered this, she allowed her free hand to drop down to the cushion she was leaning on and began to play with one of the tassels; it was an unfortunate habit she'd picked up as of late and was finding most difficult to shake.

"I think this is the part where I'm supposed to call the police," said Santana reluctantly.

"But you don't want to do that," replied Brittany, picking up immediately on Santana's tone.

Santana glanced at Callie to make sure she wasn't paying attention.

"It never did me any good," she said softly. Brittany frowned in confusion and her hand stilled.

Once more, Santana looked over to their daughter. It was a comfort to Santana, knowing that there were still people in the world who held such innocence. Her own had been stolen away at an early age, and Santana knew the second she set eyes on Callie that she would do literally anything to protect her from that. It both confused and devastated her that her own mother had clearly never felt the same way. The prospect of ever letting anything happen to Callie was unfathomable to Santana.

There was a gently tug on her hand as Brittany gracefully rose to her feet; it was with much less prowess and far more inaudible curses that Santana allowed herself to be aided into a standing position. Brittany tangled their fingers together and silently led Santana from the sitting room and into the kitchen; out of their daughters earshot.

"What do you mean, San?" asked Brittany, as the two sat down at the small table. Her eyes were round and slightly fearful; Santana wasn't entirely sure why.

"Er…when I was young," Santana began awkwardly, "The police came round, this one time. I don't know who called them. One of my mother's friends maybe."

Brittany was watching her sadly and Santana unwillingly dropped her gaze to the table. "You never told me," said Brittany in a quiet voice. "What happened?"

"Absolutely nothing," said Santana, a hint of anger creeping into her voice. "They talked to my mom for a bit and then they left; never to be seen again."

Santana could still remember that day with alarming clarity. The way she perched at the top of the stairs, listening to her mother tell the two men in no uncertain terms that there nothing to worry about and expressing her profound distress that somebody had thought otherwise. In her mind she begged one of them to just look up; to push past her mother and sweep her off her feet and take her away. They never did.

As the two men had been ushered from the house, Santana had watched as the front door was firmly closed, shutting out the rays of morning sunshine that had filtered through into the rather dusty hallway. Along with it, the spark of hope that had risen in Santana's chest faded slowly away. Somehow, it was the hope for something better that hurt Santana the most. It was much easier to lock those useless emotions away and quietly accept her lot in life.

Thankfully, Brittany didn't press her questions any further, but Santana could still see the apologetic look in her eyes. Despite their young age, Brittany had always partially blamed herself for never realising what had gone on in Santana's house until much later. It didn't seem to matter how often Santana contested the point.

"In that case," said Brittany finally, "We need a way to convince the kid to go to the police herself."

Santana thought about this for a moment. "Huh. That actually might work."

"You don't have to sound so surprised," said Brittany, but the twitch of her mouth and the sparkle in her eyes belied her words.

"I don't know," replied Santana seriously. "A lot of your ideas seem to end up with me being either traumatised or wounded."

"Like when?" Brittany spluttered.

"Off the top of my head? How about, 'Oh, Santana!'" replied Santana, her voice becoming very high pitched, "'Let's join Glee Club with Quinn!', or, "Oh, San. Nothing bad will happen if we go and chat to Patches!', or, my personal favourite, "Santana, let's have a baby!'"

Brittany's mouth dropped open in indignation. "I do not sound like that!"

"You totally do," said Santana, looking down to inspect her nails.

"And the baby thing? _Really_? I'm pretty sure out of the two of us, you got off pretty lightly," said Brittany, frowning in annoyance.

"You broke my hand in three places!" Santana protested.

"I pushed out an eight pound human being!"

Santana let out a short, painful laugh. "Yeah, I still kinda can't believe you did that."

Brittany folded her arms across her chest sulkily. "You're so mean."

Santana smiled weakly and nodded. "But you love me, so it's okay. And her. We love her too."

"We love her," Brittany agreed with a smile.

A comfortable silence fell over the two women, and Santana's mind began to wander back to what the conversation had originally been about. Hm. It was all well and good to make these plans, but much more difficult to put them into practice. She had a feeling that Christina was going to spend the next few days actively avoiding her. She hadn't turned up for practice earlier, much to Santana's displeasure.

"Britt," said Santana after a while. "Even if I do get her to talk to me, which I'm not convinced I'll be able to, what am I supposed to say to persuade her?"

Brittany looked pointedly at her and Santana felt her stomach twist uncomfortably. No. Absolutely not.

"I…What good will that do?" said Santana, her voice sounding oddly similar to her earlier high pitched Brittany impression.

"She'll trust you more," replied Brittany softly. "She'll listen to you if she doesn't just see you as her scary cheerleading coach."

Rationally, Santana couldn't fault Brittany's logic. It didn't mean she had to like it though. Before she could open her mouth to reply, the phone in her pocket began to vibrate and ring loudly and she made a grab for it with palpable relief.

"Rachel?" asked Brittany, clearly annoyed that they had been interrupted.

"No," said Santana with a frown. "Unknown number."

"I'll go and check Callie's okay," said Brittany. She rose to her feet and left Santana alone.

"_Lopez_," said Santana formally, when she had brought the phone to her ear.

"_Is this Coach Santana Lopez? Over_," said an oddly familiar voice.

Santana's face morphed into one of utter bewilderment. "_Yes. Who is this_?"

"_This is the Badger. Requesting an update on the Cheerios. Over_," said the slow, female voice.

The _badger_? What the hell?

"_Seriously, who is this_?" Santana repeated, not at all enjoying the crackling noise her phone was making. It was as though whoever she was talking to was somehow producing white noise.

"_My identity will not be compromised_," said the voice, sounding rather miffed. "_Update on the Cheerios. Stat! Over_."

"_The Cheerios are fine_," replied Santana in a careful voice.

"_I need specifics. Are they ready for Sectionals? Over_."

She definitely knew that voice.

"_They're ready for Sectionals_," replied Santana confidently. "_And stop saying 'over'!_"

"_The Eagle will be pleased. Over_," said the voice.

Suddenly, it clicked.

"_Is that Becky_?" asked Santana incredulously. "_Becky Jackson_?" There was a lengthy pause and Santana pulled a scornful face. "_Seriously? This is ridiculous_."

"_This is the Badger_!" the voice argued unconvincingly. "_This line is no longer safe. Over_."

With that, the call was cut off and Santana rolled her eyes.

* * *

After dinner, the three had decided to put on a movie. It was perfect, Brittany thought, to give her a little time to think while Callie was kept entertained for a while.

Santana needed to be cheered up, Brittany decided. She'd been in such a bad mood lately because of the whole Lima thing that it was taking all of Brittany's wiles to even get a simple smile out of the woman. Unfortunately, Santana's injuries pushed sex firmly off the table, which would usually have been Brittany's go-to solution. Santana was like…an addict or something, so sex _always_ cheered her up. Stupid stairs.

It didn't matter though, thought Brittany. She was creative. She could figure this out. It was Santana, for goodness sake. Nobody knew Santana like Brittany did, and probably never would. Although, she pondered silently, Callie had become rather adept wrapping Santana around her little finger, so to speak. She wasn't an expert, but Brittany was pretty sure that she'd produced some kind of genius child. She was clearly far too smart for her age. Brittany couldn't wait until she was a bit older and they could properly tag-team against the tyranny of Santana. A small smile crossed her face just thinking about it.

"I'm bored," Callie announced as the credits began to role on Finding Nemo. "I wanna play something."

"Like what, sweetie?" said Santana absently. Brittany could tell she was trying to drag herself back from whatever thoughts she'd been engrossed in for the past hour, because she certainly hadn't been paying attention to what must have been their hundredth showing of 'Finding Nemo'.

"Pirates," the girl announced, jumping to her feet.

A smirk caught Brittany's lips at the rather frightened look on Santana's face. Last time they'd played 'pirates', Santana had ended up being hit in the face with a foam sword and then had completely forgotten about what she'd been wearing and answered the door to her boss in full pirate gear. She'd never looked quite so mortified about something before.

"I think that's a great idea," said Brittany, grinning wickedly at Santana. "I don't think your mama is up to sailing the seven seas and hoisting the Jolly Roger flag right now though," Brittany continued. "She'll just have to be the damsel in distress."

"I am no damsel in distress," Santana protested, but Callie seemed positively delighted by the idea.

"Yeah, and we can save you from the bad pirates!" said Callie enthusiastically.

And this was why, twenty minutes later, Brittany and Callie were decked out in makeshift pirate costumes, carrying foam swords and sporting matching eye patches. It had taken some persuading but, between them, Brittany and Callie had managed to convince Santana to allow them to tie her to a chair in the middle of the front room. Or at least tying her to it had been the original plan; as it turned out, rope was in short supply in their current home, so Brittany had fished out the pair of handcuffs from Santana's draw…of which Callie would never be told the primary use. When Brittany had snapped Santana's hands behind her back before she'd realised what Brittany was holding, she'd never looked so hilariously murderous.

Santana was very obviously trying to keep the smile off her face as Callie bounced around the room, making declarations about how she and her mommy were going to save her from the evil pirates. Brittany chalked it up as a victory and began to fake sword fight with the sofa.

"You're such a child sometimes," said Santana in a low voice.

Brittany rounded her sword on Santana and waved it in her face. "Watch it, ye scurvy dog, or we're totally not gonna save you."

Santana pouted and began to grumble under her breath. Brittany was pretty sure she caught the words, 'handcuffs were so unnecessary'.

"You don't look very distressed, Mama," said Callie in a chiding voice.

"Oh I am. I'm deeply distressed," said Santana with a roll of her eyes. Brittany nudged her gently and a reluctant smile crossed her face. "Help me, oh brave ones," she called dramatically.

"Better," said Callie, looking satisfied.

Before Brittany could announce her defection to the cause of evil and challenge Callie to an epic duel, there is a quiet knock on the door and she fell silent. A glance at Santana confirmed that she heard it too. Thirty seconds passed and Brittany briefly debated ignoring it; she'd seen enough episodes of Criminal Minds to know that answering the door at night was a bad idea. Then there was another knock. It was louder this time.

Brittany furrowed her brows in confusion; who would knock at this time of night? In fact, who even knew where they lived right now? The rest of 'New Directions' had gone back to their respective homes by this point.

Santana nodded at her and she left the room and made her way slowly to the door before unhooking the chain. There were so many bolts and locks on the thing, that by the time the door was actually open, whoever had been knocking was halfway down the drive.

"Hey, wait," Brittany called.

The person turned around and Brittany's features arranged themselves into one of bafflement. The girl walked slowly back up the slope leading to the house and she paused awkwardly when she was close enough for Brittany to take in the details of her face. Brittany pulled the eye patch over her head and gazed at her in astonishment.

"Who is it, Britt?" called Santana. "Is everything okay?"

"Um," replied Brittany. "One second."

The girl was staring resolutely down at her hands and visibly trembling.

"Christina?" asked Brittany, in a soft voice so as not to startle her. She was pretty sure she knew who this girl was, but wasn't sure if she'd got the girl's name right. She nodded slowly. Then she looked up and Brittany gasped at the dark mark that appeared to have spread across her left cheek. Christina's eyes widened in astonishment and she almost stumbled backwards.

"I'm sorry," she said in a loud whisper. "I just…didn't know where else to go. I'll leave…"

Brittany's arm shot out and she grasped Christina firmly around her upper arm.

"Come in," said Brittany gently. "Please."

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Thank you for reading! :-)

ETA: Good lord. Apparently this is the fourth longest Brittana story on the site. How on earth did I write this many words...


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Greetings, earthlings. Okay, so I'm dreadfully sorry about how long this has taken. Thing is, I'm either a) just struggling with the next chapter, b) am having problems with it because I'm coming to the end of the story and I seriously suck at endings, or c) I'm suffering from annoyingly selective writers block.

So, to make up for the wait, here is **Flashback Chapter** that takes place four or five years before the rest of the story. Also, random change of tense because I wanted to try to see if I liked it.

As always, thank you very much to everyone who is reading and has reviewed. I'm immensely grateful. Hope you enjoy sort-of Chapter 18.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 18_

It's been a long day, Santana thinks as she climbs the stairs leading up to her front door with a bag of Chinese food clutched in her cold fingers. Her boss hasn't been feeling too well lately, so naturally she's taken on half of his workload as well as her own. She kind of wishes the bastard would just die already so she can convince her bosses boss to let her have his job. She's basically doing it anyway so it's the next logical step.

Normally, none of the extra work bothers Santana. She's lucky to have a job at all. Especially such a good one in the exact place she always wanted to end up. But no, everything was going fine until Santana got the phone call from _her_.

Rachel freakin' Berry.

Santana does not want to be Rachel Berry's agent.

She doesn't want to be Berry's agent, and she most certainly does not want to watch the anthology of DVD's that the woman has thoughtfully provided for Santana to 'scan through' to make sure she's familiar with all of Rachel's vast array of talents. Santana would rather punch her in the face, quite frankly.

Taking a deep breath, Santana pushes her key into her door and quickly unlocks it. _Calm_, Santana thinks to herself as she strides purposefully into the room.

"Hey, Britt!" she says with forced cheer. She has learnt the hard way that if Brittany is having a mood swing and Santana shows any kind of weakness, she's going to be treated to either an impassioned rant or a torrent of tears. Santana would like neither of those things.

"Hi, San," replies Brittany from her position on the couch. Oh thank God…Definitely a good mood today.

Santana strolls over to her wife and bends down to kiss her briefly on the lips.

"How are you feeling today?" asks Santana, perching on the edge of the sofa and placing a gentle hand on Brittany's swollen stomach.

"I'm good," says Brittany. She wrinkles her nose and looks at her feet, which are propped up on the arm of the chair. "My feet kinda hurt though."

With a weak chuckle, Santana holds up the bag in her hand. "I brought you some food."

"Yay!" Brittany exclaims with excitement. She moves to stand and Santana presses a firm hand on her shoulders.

"You keep still," Santana tells her.

Brittany pouts but makes no more effort to move. Santana knows how hard this is for her wife; she's a dancer for goodness sake. Her entire livelihood is reliant on her ability to move around. Despite the whole baby thing being Brittany's idea, she'd spent an awful lot of time sobbing into Santana's chest about never being able to dance again. It's all nonsense, of course. Santana knows full well that pregnancy isn't going to stop Brittany from doing whatever the hell she puts her mind to.

"Guess who called me today," says Santana as she wanders into their kitchen to put the food onto plates.

"Um…"

"Rachel Berry," says Santana before Brittany can respond. "Apparently I have to be her agent now."

"San…"

"I mean _seriously_!" Santana continues. "Rachel Berry! I thought I'd escaped that insipid little clown midget."

"Santana…"

"I feel like I'm being punished for something," says Santana, doling out fried rice on to their square, white plates. "She even offered to come in and sing for me just in case I'd forgotten what her voice sounded like."

"Oh…"

"Like I could ever forget," Santana adds darkly. "I still hear it in my nightmares."

"Yeah…San?"

"Of course, Nigel doesn't give a damn that I don't _like_ Berry and keeps bitching about how I'm supposed to be his assistant," says Santana. She picks up the plates and carries them back into the sitting room. "I guess I could try and get her the worst roles ever. I wonder how she'd like the role of 'Street Mime' in that awful new Ricky Gervais movie."

"Santana!" Brittany shouts. She jumps a little and spins around to face Brittany.

"Jesus, Britt. You trying to give me a heart attack or something?" she says angrily.

"Santana," repeats Brittany in a calm voice. "You need to put the food down."

"Why?" asks Santana suspiciously. "Do you not like Chinese anymore? Is it the smell? I can take it away if–"

"Santana!" says Brittany firmly. "Stop talking." Santana clamps her mouth shut. "I think my water just broke."

For a few, long seconds, neither of them say anything. There's a sick sort of feeling in Santana's stomach as she gazes uncomprehendingly into Brittany's calm, blue eyes.

"You…" says Santana. "Your…"

"Water just broke," Brittany confirms. "Yes."

* * *

Brittany watches with silent amusement as Santana begins to panic. The dark haired woman is practically running around the house looking for things they might need, even though they have a bag ready and waiting in their bedroom. A breathless mantra of 'oh my God, oh my God' reaches Brittany's ears and she stifles a laugh as Santana accidentally kicks the leg of the table and almost falls over.

"Oh yeah!" Santana suddenly exclaims. "We have a bag!"

She disappears from sight and Brittany smiles. Anyone would think it was Santana about to have a baby and not her.

When Santana returns, she is clutching a rather large hold-all in her hands. She races for the exit and before Brittany can say anything, she's shot outside and slammed the door behind her. Brittany frowns in confusion.

Had…Santana just left for the hospital without her?

Less than a minute later, the door opens again and Santana pops her head around it with a rather sheepish expression on her face.

"Er…"

Brittany laughs and allows her wife to help her to her feet.

* * *

When they arrive at the hospital, they are quickly shown to their own private room. Santana is beside herself with worry and is genuinely finding it difficult stop pacing, despite Brittany's loud request that she keep still.

The journey over had been absolutely unbearable. Santana had almost crashed the car at one point because she'd been too busy concentrating on making sure that Brittany wasn't in any pain yet. Brittany had been less than impressed with their near-death experience and so Santana decided to focus on the road for the rest of the drive. It was difficult, but she'd managed it. Just.

"Santana," says Brittany in a quiet voice. Santana immediately stops pacing and rushes over to grasp Brittany's hand in her own.

"What is it, Britt? Do you need something? Are you hungry? Do you need some ice chips? Should I go and get a doctor?" says Santana quickly.

Brittany smiles at her and some of the tension in Santana's chest loosens a little.

"Can you call my parents please?" Brittany asks.

Santana feels her shoulder droop a little and she nods her head. "Of course, Britt. Whatever you want."

She reluctantly leaves the room and wanders over to where she knows she saw a phone earlier. She dials the Pierces' number and almost jumps in shock when Brittany's father answers on the first ring. She stutters out the situation to him and he promises to be on the first flight to LA; but only after he's threatened to take a hit out on her if she doesn't make sure Brittany gets through this okay. Santana swallows nervously and promises him that everything will be fine.

When she's spoken to both of Brittany's parents, she hesitates a moment before dialling a second number.

"_Fabray_," says a confident voice.

"_Quinn_?" replies Santana.

"_Santana? What's wrong_?" says Quinn quickly.

"_Brittany is in labour_!" says Santana, allowing the emotion she's feeling to seep into her voice.

There's a sound of suppressed giggling and then Quinn clears her throat. "_Okay, stay calm, Lopez_."

"_I am calm_," Santana protests. "_You stay calm_!"

"_Come on, Santana. Breathe_," says Quinn. "_If you panic then it'll make Brittany nervous_."

"_Right_," Santana says, running her free hand through her hair. "_Yeah_."

"_Good_," says Quinn. "_How is Britt doing_?"

"_She's…doing a bit better than me actually_," Santana admits with a little laugh.

"_Shocker_," says Quinn. Santana furrows her brows. "_How far along is she_?"

"_Not very, I don't think_," Santana replies. "_The doctor said two centimetres_."

"_Okay_," says Quinn, a smile in her voice. "G_et back in there and make sure that Brittany's okay. Okay_?"

"_Yeah_," says Santana, feeling a little calmer.

"_Keep me updated_," Quinn tells her before hanging up.

* * *

It's been a few hours since the two arrived in the hospital and Santana is already climbing the walls. The sterile, whitewash walls that makes everywhere feel cold, even though Santana knows full well that it isn't. She's escaped the room a couple of times to harass the doctor, but much to Santana's displeasure, he always seems to be busy with other patients. He clearly needs to sort out his priorities.

"I'm bored," Brittany says sulkily. Santana shoots her an incredulous look. How the hell is she still so calm? "Do you think I could get a TV or something?"

"I already asked," says Santana with a sigh. "They said no."

Brittany mumbles something under her breath about missing Spongebob.

"I'll buy the DVD for you when we get home," says Santana, pressing a kiss to Brittany's lips. "You can watch them with the baby."

"Okay," says Brittany happily. "Do you think he'll like Spongebob?"

"Totally," Santana replies. "With you as his mom, how could he not?"

"Yeah," Brittany agrees. "Do you think he'll like dancing too?"

"What? So I can have two people in our house with better moves than me?" says Santana with a pout. She's rewarded with a chuckle. "Doesn't seem fair."

"We can enter mother-son dance competitions," says Brittany enthusiastically.

"I don't think there are many of those," Santana replies with a smirk. Brittany pouts. "I'm sure we can find some though," Santana hurriedly adds.

Brittany's response dies on her lips as another contraction hits.

* * *

"_Seriously, Santana! Do you know what time it is_?" comes Quinn's irate voice.

"_No_," says Santana shortly. "_They made me switch off my phone and I left my watch at home_."

Santana hears a deep sigh and the sound of Quinn moving around.

"_What do you want_?" Quinn demands.

"_Well I'm very sorry for getting you out of what is obviously the wrong side of your bed while my wife is in labour_!" snaps Santana in reply.

Another sigh. "_Fine_," says Quinn in a softer voice. "_What's up_?"

Suddenly, Santana feels ridiculous for phoning. It's obviously later than she thought it was and Brittany is alone again all because Santana is having pre-parent jitters.

"_Never mind_," she says quietly. "_Go back to bed_."

"_No no_," says Quinn hastily. "_I'm up now. What's wrong, Santana_?"

Santana chews on her bottom lips for a moment. "_What if he doesn't like me_?"

There's a pause and Santana can just _tell_ that Quinn is silently laughing at her. Bitch.

"_Why wouldn't he like you_?" she says finally. Yeah, there's definitely amusement in that tone. "_You're gonna be his cool dad, right?_"

"_I am not going to be his dad_!" Santana protests immediately. "_I'm gonna be his other hot mom that all his friends wanna do_."

"_Wow. That's…not wildly inappropriate at all_," Quinn remarks. "_I honestly don't know why you'd think your son might not enjoy that_."

"_Shut the hell up_!" says Santana before slamming the overlarge phone down hard enough to make every single person in the waiting room turn to stare at her.

* * *

"_She's been in labour for ten hours, Quinn_!" says Santana desperately. It physically hurts Santana to see Brittany in pain and not be able to do anything about it.

"_Well…sometimes that happens_," replies an incredibly tired Quinn.

"_It didn't happen with you_," Santana grumbles.

"_No_," Quinn agrees after a moment.

Santana lets out a noise of frustration. "_Whatever. I need to get back_."

Before Quinn can reply, Santana crashes the phone down again and stalks back to Brittany's room. She takes a deep calming breath before pushing the door open.

Brittany's face is screwed up in pain and Santana's heart clenches painfully. She rushes forward and grips Brittany's hand in her own. Brittany squeezes tightly and gasps.

"It hurts, San," says Brittany breathlessly.

"It's okay," says Santana. She sits on the bed and pulls Brittany towards her. "You're gonna be okay."

Brittany muffles an anguished cry into Santana's chest.

"Just breathe," says Santana. Her voice is steady, but her hands are shaking violently as she strokes Brittany's hair. "Like in the classes? Remember?"

It takes a few moments, but eventually Brittany's breathing evens out and her trembling subsides.

* * *

"Okay, Brittany," says the doctor kindly. "It's time to go."

Brittany's eyes widen in horror and Santana's feels physically ill.

"San, I'm scared," says Brittany; she's more terrified that Santana has ever seen her.

Santana leans in and kisses Brittany on the mouth. "You're going to be great, Britts."

As she sits back down, a pale hand shoots out and grasps Santana's. "Don't leave me," Brittany says, in that same fearful voice that does funny things to Santana's insides.

"I won't," replies Santana with a smile.

Santana glances over to the doctor; he's stood beside a nurse and Brittany's legs are up in stirrups. Oh God…this is actually happening.

When Santana looks back on it, the first half of the birth is kind of a blur. She remembers a lot of screaming and swearing and no small amount of anger being thrown around. Honestly, Santana gets the hatred with a guy, but _she_ had no part in getting Brittany pregnant; mainly because she lacks certain vital equipment needed to impregnate women. It hadn't seemed to matter much to Brittany though. As far as she was concerned, the baby was Santana's, and the pain that came with it was her fault to.

In one fateful moment, after the doctor tells them that he can see the baby's head, Santana foolishly agrees to go and have a quick look.

"Oh my God, it's like something out of a slasher movie," says Santana in horror. "Should _not_ have looked, should _not_ have looked, should _not_ have looked!" Santana makes a mental note to warn anyone and everyone that looking is a mistake of _epic_ proportion.

Brittany cries out in pain and Santana jumps and darts back over to grab her hand.

"Ow ow ow!"

"It's okay, Britt! Breathe!"

"_It is not okay_!"

"Sorry," Santana gasps as the pressure on her hand increases.

The room fills with colourful curses that Santana has only ever heard Brittany use in the throes of passion. It would be funny if it weren't for the fact that Brittany is in so much pain. As far as most of their friends are concerned, Brittany doesn't even know how to swear. It's ridiculous of course, but there you go.

"Come on, Britt," says Santana, flinching as the bones in her hand grind together. "You can do it!"

Through tears, Brittany glares at her as though Santana is the cause of everything evil in the world. Santana once more resists the urge to point out that she had nothing to do with the conception of this baby; at this time she feels like those words would definitely do more harm than good.

"Okay, Brittany," says the doctor. "I can see the shoulders. You can relax for a minute."

Brittany makes an odd squealing noise and her head falls back onto the pillow.

"I need your next push to be a big one," the doctor tells her.

"Okay," Brittany breathes. Santana reaches forward with her free hand to wipe away the tears that are rolling down Brittany's cheeks.

"You're doing great, Britt," she says quietly. "Just a couple more minutes and it'll all be over."

A tearful laugh escapes Brittany's lips. "I kind of hate you a little bit right now, San," she says in a shaky voice.

Santana brings Brittany's hand up to her lips and kisses it softly.

"Okay, Brittany," says the doctor. There's a flash of fear in Brittany's eyes. "One last push."

Then Brittany is screaming and clutching at Santana as though her life depends on it.

"Oww you bitch!" Santana gasps as pain shoots through her hand. There's a sickening crack and Santana yelps in agony. Nobody hears over Brittany's own cries and the doctor's shouts of encouragement.

White spots float in front of her eyes until Brittany finally loosens her grip and falls silent. For a moment, all that can be heard in the room is Brittany's ragged breathing.

Then there's a cry; and it's the most beautiful sound Santana has ever heard. Fresh tears roll down Brittany's face and as Santana raises her free hand up to her own face, she's surprised to note that she's crying too.

"Everything okay?" Brittany asks breathlessly.

"Everything is fine," says the doctor happily. He hands the baby to the nurse and she begins to wrap the child up in a small white blanket. "She's a healthy baby girl."

"Thank God," says Brittany tearfully, letting her head flop back down on the bed. "Wait…what?"

"Did you say _girl_?" asks Santana through gritted teeth.

The doctor shoots them a puzzled look. "Yes, I did."

Through their tears, Santana and Brittany laugh hysterically.

* * *

Brittany yawns loudly and leans back against the uncomfortable metal headboard. She's exhausted, but still feels too wired to go to sleep. She's also not sure she's going to be able to relax until they've brought back her beautiful baby girl. Santana, on the other hand, has her head resting on the hospital bed and is snoring softly.

With a fond smile, Brittany tangles her fingers in her wife's disarrayed hair. She's kind of impressed that Santana had lasted this long before passing out if she's honest. At one point Brittany had been convinced that Santana was going to have some kind of heart failure from sheer anxiety.

There's a light knock on the door and Brittany looks up just as her mother and father poke their heads into the room. They look relieved when they see her and Brittany's face lights up with a smile.

The walk quietly over to her and her mom sits at the foot of her bed and gazes at her through adoring eyes.

"Hey, baby," says her father, leaning over Santana to place a gentle kiss on Brittany's forehead. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm great," says Brittany sleepily.

Her dad glances down at the sleeping woman beside Brittany and a frown captures his features when he takes in the dark blue hand splint she's now sporting. "What happened to Santana?"

A blush creeps across Brittany's face. "I happened."

Her mom laughs. "Oh dear."

"How bad is it?" her dad asks with a matching smirk.

Brittany's blush deepens and she looks down. "I broke three of her fingers," she whispers.

The laughter from her mother becomes a little louder and her dad's eyes sparkle with ill concealed mirth. "Oh well," he says. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

"It was her right hand so she doesn't need it as much," Brittany agrees. "I think if I hadn't just had our baby though she'd be super annoyed at me."

At the word 'baby', her mother's eyes fill with tears. Brittany hopes they're happy tears.

"Have you named him yet?" asks her father, his voice sounding oddly croaky.

Brittany smiles a little. "She's not a him."

"What?" asks her mother in confusion.

"Doctor got it wrong somehow," says Brittany with a weak shrug. "She's definitely a girl though. And we haven't named her yet."

Her parents shoot each other a baffled look, but Brittany is far too tired to care why.

"Do you have any options yet?" her mother prompts after a moment.

"It's between Callie and Jezebel," Brittany informs them.

Once more, her parents look at each other in that way they sometimes do when she talks. Then they simultaneously turn to Brittany and say, "Callie."

"Yeah," replies Brittany thoughtfully. "San doesn't like the other one either."

She yawns again and her dad smiles at her. "Okay, baby. We're going to let you get some rest and come back later."

"Okay, dad," says Brittany through another yawn. "See you later."

* * *

When Brittany wakes up, she doesn't open her eyes right away. She's kind of cold and there's a dull ache in her body; the kind of one she gets after some seriously intensive dance sessions. She's about to reach out to see if Santana is still next to her when she hears her voice not far away.

"Hey, baby," Santana is saying. "I'm your Mama. I'm the badass one who's gonna scare away all your future boyfriends." Brittany suppresses a smile at this. "You're probably not going to look anything like me," says Santana, and there's a hint of sadness in her voice that makes Brittany's heart ache, "But I'm still your Mama. Got it, sweetie? And I'm going to love you forever and ever."

Deciding it's time to let Santana know she's awake, Brittany shifts a little and lets her eyes flutter open.

Santana is cradling the baby in her arms and looking at Brittany which such love that it brings tears to her eyes.

"Hey," she says softly.

"Hi, Britt," says Santana coyly.

Brittany holds out her arms and Santana immediately walks over to her and passes her the baby. She's so tiny that Brittany is a little worried that she's accidentally going to break her or something.

"Hey, Callie," says Brittany softly. If she didn't know any better, Brittany would swear that the baby smiles at her.

"We're calling her Callie?" asks Santana, sitting down on the bed and wrapping her left arm around Brittany while her other hangs awkwardly at her side.

Brittany nods and rests her head on Santana's shoulder. The baby gurgles a little and Brittany smiles. "She has your eyes," she remarks as she looks closely at Callie's chubby face.

When Santana doesn't respond, Brittany looks sideways and almost laughs.

"Are you crying, Santana?"

"No," replies Santana with a loud sniff.

This time, Brittany does laugh. "I thought I was only taking one baby home with me. You should have warned me I was getting two."

Santana shoves her gently. "You're lucky I love you so much right now or I'd totally have to kick your ass."

"Now now," Brittany admonishes her. "Better watch your language in front of our baby."

Santana chuckles. "Noted."

At that moment, Callie screws her face up and begins to wail. A panicked look crosses Santana's face as Brittany holds the screaming baby out in front of her consideringly.

Oh yeah.

This was going to be fun.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Thank you for reading! :-)


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Like the real Glee, I have returned with a new instalment. As always, thanks to everyone who has read this far and especially to the people who took the time to review!

I literally wrote this whole chapter, deleted it and then rewrote it three times. It's been driving me up the wall. So I'm sorry if it isn't up to my usual standard. Maybe it's all the angst but I've just really been struggling with it. But anyway, hope you like it.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 19_

Christina was hesitant at first, but she relented when Brittany wrapped her arm around the girl's shoulders and steered her into the warmth of the house. Squinting against the light, Christina let Brittany lead her down the hall and directly into the sitting room. Brittany couldn't help but wonder how long she'd been wandering around outside for; she was pretty much radiating cold.

As they walked through the doorway, Santana looked over from her awkward position on the chair and her mouth dropped open in shock.

"Hi!" said Callie enthusiastically as soon as she saw who it was. Her sword dropped to her side and she cocked her head to the side in question. "Did you come to play pirates?"

Brittany squeezed Christina's shoulders encouragingly and was gratified when the girl smiled weakly.

"Er…Brittany?" said Santana demandingly, shaking her hands so the handcuffs clinked together. Her face had turned a hilariously dark shade of red and Brittany stifled a laugh at the look of mortification she was sporting.

Releasing Christina and gesturing to her to sit down on the sofa, Brittany reached into her pocket and procured a small silver key. She looked at it thoughtfully before taking a few steps forward and bending down to release Santana from the cuffs. A sigh of relief escaped Santana's lips as the metal fastenings fell to the floor with a clatter.

"Handcuffs? Why do you even have handcuffs?" asked Christina incredulously. Her voice sounded painfully croaky.

Santana's face flushed deeply and Brittany bit back another laugh.

"We've had them for ages," said Brittany in an offhand voice that she knew would drive Santana insane. "San stole them from a cop when we were sixteen."

"Brittany," said Santana in a strangled voice. "I'm supposed to be like…a role model or something."

"But you said stealing was bad," Callie piped up, looking rather confused. Santana clapped her hand to her forehead. _Oops_.

"It is," said Brittany solemnly.

"But you said–"

"I think it's time to start getting ready for bed," Brittany interrupted her. Callie's face fell in a disappointment and Brittany resolved to make it up to her tomorrow. Maybe they could try Cowboys and Indians next.

Santana stood up and rubbed her wrists a little; there wasn't a mark so Brittany imagined it was out of habit rather than it actually hurting her. She then turned to the girl now sat on their couch with her head bowed, dark hair falling forward and obscuring her face from view, and raised an eyebrow at Brittany.

Brittany shook her head and tried to convey the seriousness of the situation with a look; thankfully, Santana seemed to pick up on her mood and her shoulders dropped a little. Brittany wondered if Santana be able to rein in her anger when she realised what had happened or whether she'd fly into a rage. It was difficult to say at this point.

"Night, Mama," said Callie, rather dejectedly, walking slowly towards the door with her sword trailing across the floor behind her. "Night night, Christina," she then said.

"Night," replied the Cheerio in a soft voice.

"I'll come up before you go to sleep," Santana added, taking a seat on the couch opposite Christina.

Brittany held out her hand which Callie grasped it in her soft, tiny fingers and then led her quickly from the room.

* * *

When Santana was sure that Callie was out of earshot, she turned properly to the young girl now sat on her couch. About a million questions raced through her head; some more productive than others. For some reason, the only one she could bring herself to ask was, "How did you know where I lived?"

For whatever reason, Christina did not look up and Santana involuntarily raised an eyebrow. "I didn't," said Christina quietly. "I was just walking and I recognised your car. I wasn't going to knock but…"

"It's okay," Santana reassured her. "I'm glad you did."

Christina remained motionless and Santana shifted awkwardly; she worried that if she asked Christina too many questions, she'd run away again. This seemed to be a rare opportunity for a second chance and she didn't want to ruin it.

"Um…" said Santana. "Can I get you anything? A drink or maybe something to eat?"

"No thanks," the girls said in an almost imperceptibly quiet voice. Santana pulled a face; so much for Stalling Plan A.

"Okay then," said Santana. "Do you want to talk?"

There was a long pause and Santana put her best effort forward to keep still and wait for a response. Patience had never been her strong suit and Santana amused herself for a moment by thinking about how proud Brittany will be of her for lasting this long.

"I don't know," said Christina at last.

Of course not. A simple yes just would have been far too easy.

"Cheerios practice was hard without you there," said Santana after a moment; maybe if she could get Christina talking about something else, it would relax her a bit. "Apple was furious; I assume because you'd disobeyed her direct orders or something of the ilk. Her annoyance almost made it worth the complete waste of time it was."

Christina bowed her head a little so Santana took it as a nod of agreement. When she spoke, there was definitely a small smile in her voice. "Why do you hate her so much?"

"Who?" asked Santana. "Apple?"

"Yeah."

Santana contemplated this for a moment. "I don't hate her at all. I sometimes find her sense of entitlement hard to take. She reminds me of someone I know and I think maybe she'd benefit from a bit of perspective. I don't hate her though."

"Oh," said Christina. She obviously hadn't been expecting a proper answer.

"I take it you skipped practice because of what happened in my office?" asked Santana tentatively.

"No," Christina blatantly lied. Santana rolled her eyes. "…Yes."

Despite already knowing this was the case, an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of Santana's stomach at the confirmation. She wished the girl would look up; it was much harder to gauge people's feelings when you couldn't see their face. Not that judging how people were feeling had ever been a particularly strong skill of Santana's…

"All right, next question," said Santana with false confidence. "Do you want to tell me why you were wandering around the streets at night? I know it's not late or anything, but it's still dark and not exactly safe out there."

Christina let out a loud, shuddering breath and raised her head to make eye contact. Santana's heart skipped a beat as she took in the purple bruise on Christina's pale cheek. The maternal instincts she was convinced she'd never have kicked in and Santana bit back the urge to pull the girl into a hug that she was sure Christina would not want.

She could have prevented this.

"Who did that?" asked Santana breathlessly.

There was no response and Christina's expression darkened.

"Was it your father?" Santana probed, then she flinched. That was what drove her out last time.

Fully expecting another denial, Santana was surprised when Christina simply shrugged. "So what if it was?"

"So what if it was," Santana repeated faintly. She shook her head in desolation. "So…_many_ things if it was, Christina."

Christina shrugged yet again; her eyes flat and empty.

"I can help you," said Santana weakly. "I can protect you."

"What with?" asked Christina with a hollow laugh. "Your vast arsenal of cheerleading moves and your dancer girlfriend?"

"Wife," Santana corrected her sharply, not at all liking the tone being directed at her. Christina had the good grace to look a little apologetic but made no effort to verbalise her thoughts. "Just tell me, Christina. It will make you feel better."

"I can't," the girl whispered forlornly.

"Tell me how long it's been going on for," Santana prompted.

The room filled with tension, and for a moment Santana had a horrible feeling she was just going to storm out. _Again_. Then Christina shrugged.

"Since my mom died," she said, as though it were of no importance. "A few years now."

Santana's heart clenched a little. A few years…

"Do any of your friends know?" she asked.

Christina snorted. "There's nothing to know."

Really, Santana knew that her friends couldn't possibly know, otherwise somebody else would have been told by now. Maybe not by Apple or Charlotte. The other one though. The one that always had her eyes glued to her iPhone. Out of their little foursome, Santana suspected that she would be the one with enough interest and enough force to actually do something about it.

Closing her eyes for a moment, Santana took in a deep breath. "You realise that I have to go to the police now, don't you?"

Christina's face morphed into an expression of fury and she clenched her hands into fists. "No you don't!"

"Yeah, Christina. I do," said Santana honestly. "Even if I didn't want to, which by the way I totally do, I can't just let you go back home knowing what I do. I'm pretty sure it's like…against the law or something for me not to go to the police now."

"Please don't," Christina begged. The look of fear on her face was almost painful. "You said you'd help me."

"I am helping," replied Santana, for some reason feeling like the worlds biggest bitch. "You can't keep letting him get away with this, Christina. What if he really hurts you one day?"

"He won't," Christina whispered.

"You don't know that," Santana argued. Christina didn't seem to have a reply to this. She wrapped her arms around herself awkwardly. "Why did you never tell anyone, Christina?" said Santana when the girl refused to speak, though she knew the answer. "You have to understand what he's doing to you is wrong."

Christina shrugged and her eyes burned into Santana's with hatred and misery. "I can handle it."

"No you can't," replied Santana with a sigh. "And you shouldn't have to."

"What the fuck do you know about it?" Christina snapped, then her eyes widened and her head dropped. Santana bit back a rising anger and took a deep calming breath; losing her temper would be far from helpful in this situation.

"I know more about it than you'd think," she settled on saying.

"Whatever," said Christina dismissively. "I really don't care."

Santana felt her heart break a little bit.

"Well, _I_ care," she replied firmly. "You need to come to the police with me. Or one day he's going to do more than just give you a black eye."

"I can't," whispered the girl. She sounded so lost. "You don't know what he'll do to me…"

"He's not going to do anything to you again," said Santana firmly. "Even if I don't rip off his head with my bare hands, he's going to prison for a _very_ long time."

"You don't know that," said Christina stubbornly.

Santana looked away miserably. This wasn't getting her anywhere. What was it Brittany had said? Something about earning Christina's trust first. Yeah, 'cause that sounded like something that Santana wanted to do. Maybe she should just hand over a mass produced copy of her life story over to the Cheerios now and have done with it.

But then, isn't that all she'd wanted herself? Someone to trust? Before she had Brittany to make everything better anyway. Because that's what Brittany did, whether she meant to or not; she made stuff better.

Keeping her eyes fixed firmly on the wall behind the sofa, Santana clenched her hands into fists. "Look, Christina," she said tentatively. The girl set her gaze firmly onto Santana. "I know how you feel. I honestly do." Christina made a small sound of disbelief. "My father was far from winning any 'Best Dad of the Year' awards too. When he wasn't knocking my mom from room to room, I'm pretty sure he was out mugging old ladies or something to pay our rent."

Though her voice was emotionless, Santana felt anything but calm.

"I was eleven when he left us, but it took a couple of years before I felt safe enough to walk around without having to look over my shoulder every five minutes," Santana continued. Her mouth was dry and she licked her lips nervously. "So…I know you feel like you're alone, but you're not."

"It's…not the same," said the girl quietly, but her voice wavered a little bit. Santana rolled her eyes. "Did you ever see him again? Your dad I mean."

For a moment, Santana pondered lying to her. Telling her the truth wasn't likely to support her earlier point that she'd be safe.

"I did," said Santana finally. "When I was seventeen."

"What happened?" asked Christina, her eyes alight with curiosity.

Santana took a deep breath to steady herself; unfortunately all she achieved was a particularly painful stabbing sensation as her lungs pressed against her ribs. She grimaced and a quick glance at the clock told her that it was time to dose herself up on medication. Hopefully Brittany would remember and bring them to her.

"I'm gay," said Santana shortly. It was strange how even now the word 'gay' still sometimes left a bad taste in her mouth. Christina frowned.

"Well, yeah…I kind of figured," she said, clearly not seeing where Santana was going with this.

"Men like my father do not approve of the…_sinful_ lifestyle that I chose for myself," said Santana. Even to her own ears she sounded bitter. Christina's gaze filled with understanding and Santana had to look away. "He…well, it doesn't matter anymore," she added softly. "He's in prison and he can't hurt me."

There were tears in Christina's eyes and Santana could hear that her breathing was laboured. Or was that her own breathing? Either way, the tension in the room was stifling and Santana found herself wishing that Brittany would come and save her from it. She swallowed against the uncomfortable lump in her throat and began to fiddle with one of the cushions.

"Christina…"

That was when the first sob tore from the girl's throat. Santana felt her eyes widen in horror as instinct kicked in; her heart sped up and she wanted desperately to offer comfort. Not sure whether it would be welcome, Santana instead reached across the sofa and clutched Christina's hand in her own.

Christina's whole body shook as she wept silently.

"Christina…" Santana tried again. Before she could carry on her sentence, the girl scrambled over to her and basically threw herself into Santana's arms. Santana bit down on her lip to stop a few choice swearwords from escaping at the impact.

"Okay," she said gently. She wrapped her arms securely around the crying mess and began to rock her gently back and forth. "It's gonna be okay."

Between sobs, Christina mumbled something along the lines of, "It's not," into Santana's shoulder, but continued to grasp at Santana as if for dear life. Santana couldn't help but wonder how long she'd been holding this in for.

At one point, Brittany wandered in with a look of deep concern on her face. The fond smile that grew on her face as she took in the scene before her was both annoying and a comfort. She mouthed the words 'well done' to Santana and indicated that she'd come back in a bit. She then silently left the room with final reassuring glance.

After a while, Christina began to talk. She didn't lift her head or make any attempt to release Santana from her vice-like grip, but there was some definite garbled phrases being muttered into Santana's shirt.

"He only hits me when he's been drinking," Christina told her at some point. With great difficulty, Santana resisted the urge to explain to her that being drunk was absolutely no excuse and instead held her tongue so the girl would keep talking; even if every word caused Santana a fresh wave of guilt and anger. It was probably a good thing that she was injured; if she'd been in peak physical condition, Santana wasn't sure if she'd have been able to control her rage enough to not beat the shit out Rains Sr. It felt like a good idea, but she wanted to spare Brittany the trouble of explaining to Callie why her mother was in jail for beating one of the parents of her student's to a bloody pulp.

Eventually, Christina's sobs subsided and her breathing began to even out. It took Santana a few minutes to realise that she'd actually fallen asleep.

She shifted awkwardly to reach her phone from her pocket and sent a text to Brittany. Less then a minute later, she appeared at the door with an unhappy frown.

"I can't move," said Santana as quietly as she could. "I'd pick her up myself but…"

Brittany nodded and smiled a little. "We'll put her in the guest room for tonight?"

"That's what I was thinking," said Santana in agreement.

Brittany tilted her head to one side for a moment before scooping up Christina easily in her arms. Santana let out a sigh of relief and smoothed out her ruined blouse. Oh well…wasn't like she couldn't afford to replace it.

She followed Brittany up the stairs and into the as of yet un-used bedroom. Santana pulled the covers back and Brittany laid the girl down carefully so as not to wake her. Methodically, Santana then began to undo her shoelaces and pulled off Christina's trainers as unobtrusively as possible while Brittany began to unbutton her coat.

"San," said Brittany, there was a catch in her voice that Santana didn't like one bit.

Santana clenched her jaw and let her eyes swivel to where Brittany was pointing. She inhaled sharply as she realised what had caught Brittany's attention.

Several, angry red marks marred Christina's right forearm. Like she'd been hit by something and had raised it in self-defence. A sick feeling settled in the pit of Santana's stomach as she noted dried blood caked around the collection of wounds.

Biting back her anger for the time being, she helped Brittany remove the bulky coat and then covered up the sleeping cheerleader with the hideous dark floral bedspread. They left the dark room and quietly shut the door behind them.

"I'm going to kill him," Santana muttered under her breath.

"I don't think that's a good idea," said Brittany softly.

Santana a brief noise of disagreement and the two made their way back to the living room.

"I'm going to take her to the hospital in the morning," said Santana as Brittany sat down on the sofa. "It's too late to stitch those cuts up but she might need a tetanus shot or something."

"What about work?" asked Brittany blankly.

Santana groaned in exhaustion. "Don't make me go to school tomorrow," she whined. "It's been a _really_ long day."

With a sympathetic smile, Brittany gestured for her to sit down in front of her. She willingly followed the instructions and then groaned again when Brittany began to massage her shoulders with her long, skilled fingers.

"Just relax for a minute," Brittany whispered in her ear. Santana shivered as the warm breath hit her skin.

"Easier said than done, Britt," Santana mumbled. Her breath hitched a little as Brittany pressed down on a particularly stubborn kink.

"This is all going to work out, you know," said Brittany with a quiet confidence that Santana couldn't help but envy. "I know you hate it, but it's for the best that we're here now, you know."

"How is that?" Santana mumbled absently, tilting her head to the side to give Brittany better access to the base of her neck.

"Well," said Brittany, continuing to knead Santana's muscles, "Just think about what would have happened to her now if we weren't here…don't tense your shoulders!"

"Sorry," Santana breathed. Brittany placed a gentle kiss on her neck and Santana let out a little sigh of contentment.

"Let's go to bed," said Brittany softly. She pressed another kiss to Santana's jaw line.

"But it's only half past nine," protested Santana half-heartedly; nevertheless she pushed herself painfully to her feet. Brittany rose gracefully behind her and wrapped her arm around Santana's waist.

"We don't have to go to sleep right away," replied Brittany with a lazy smile.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Thanks for reading!


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Yo yo yo. Hey, all. As always, I want to thank everybody who is still reading and the people who have reviewed and whatnot. I'm always very appreciative and well…reviews kind of make my day. So yes, thank you very very much :-)

Anyhoozelbees, I hope you enjoy this chapter.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 20_

It hadn't taken them long to reach the bedroom and change out of their day clothes. Nor had it taken Brittany long to convince Santana to lie facedown in the middle of the bed so she could straddle her hips and pick up where they'd left off downstairs.

"So," said Brittany, running her knuckles gently from one of Santana's shoulder blade to the other, "Were you right?"

"Of course I was," Santana replied lazily. "I'm always right." She didn't sound as proud of herself as she normally would with those words.

Through a wave of sadness, Brittany smiled a little and moved her hands back to Santana's shoulders; it was the only place she could touch and be sure that she wasn't hurting her. Although Santana's appreciative groans pretty much confirmed that injuries or no injuries, she was definitely enjoying herself.

"No. _I'm_ always right," Brittany corrected. "You have your moments."

"Great," said Santana, allowing her forehead to drop onto the mattress. "Thanks a lot, Britt."

"Any time," replied Brittany in that cheerful voice that she knew full well Santana could never bring herself to argue with. It was like it physically pained her or something, so naturally Brittany took full advantage of this knowledge. She shook her head with amused disappointment; and people thought she wasn't clever.

Oh well, being underestimated was sometimes a good thing; it meant people were perpetually impressed with her. Maybe she'd pass on this wisdom to Callie when she was older; not that she seemed like she was going to need the help. Brittany made smart babies.

Another moan escaped Santana's lips as Brittany worked her fingers against the tense muscles lower down her back. "I don't see why we can't just have sex," said Santana breathlessly. "'Cause I'm not gonna lie, this kinda feels like–"

"Santana," Brittany admonished her. "We are not having sex until you can move without flinching."

"I don't–"

"You do," said Brittany, leaving no room for argument. "So stop whining. It's only been a few days."

"You're so mean," Santana grumbled.

Brittany's hands stilled. "Do you want me to stop? I'm not giving you a free massage if you aren't even going to appreciate it."

"…No," said Santana, rather reluctantly.

With a chuckle, Brittany resumed her movements while still being careful to avoid any obvious bruising.

"Do you want to tell me what Christina said to you yet?" Brittany asked after a few minutes of relative silence.

She felt Santana stiffen a little underneath her. "You know what she said to me."

"Actually I don't," replied Brittany lightly.

"It was pretty much what I thought," said Santana. "Dead mom and alcoholic father equals… bad."

Her voice was cavalier but Brittany could see right through it. Even if she hadn't known Santana as well as she did, Brittany was pretty sure that she'd be able to detect that tone of utter devastation behind her wife's words. She pressed a kiss to the back of Santana's neck before moving off her and into a sitting position next to her.

"So what's the plan?" Brittany prompted. "We can't let her go home."

"I don't know yet," Santana admitted. With what appeared to be a lot of effort, she turned so they were facing each other. "I guess I'm going to take her to the hospital and maybe see what the doctor suggests? I supposed they'd like…know more about this than me."

"Doctor's are smart," said Brittany in agreement. Santana pulled a face but said nothing; she obviously had some doubts. "Are you tired yet?"

Santana let out huff. "I've been tired for about a _month_."

"Don't be so dramatic," Brittany chided. "You're fine."

"That's true," said Santana with a weak grin. "I'm super fine."

With a roll of her eyes, Brittany gave Santana a gentle shove. "Well you can think about that while I go to sleep."

A look of discomfort crossed Santana's face. This was becoming a bit of a night time ritual now; even though she never said it out loud, Santana was still scared to fall asleep. Brittany leaned forwards and kissed her. "I'll go and get your pills," she said softly. Santana nodded silently.

* * *

When Santana awoke, it was not to the glorious morning sun or the sound of birds merrily cheeping. Her eyebrows instinctively contracted in a way she knew made her look peculiarly hawk like and buried her face in her pillow. There was a fuzzy feeling in her head that it took her a moment to realise probably had something to do with the sleeping pills she'd taken a few hours earlier. She should definitely not be awake right now.

"San," Brittany hissed in her ear. _Ah_.

"Wosthematta?" Santana mumbled into her cushion. Brittany sighed audibly with relief and squeezed Santana's arm. She hadn't even realised that Brittany was touching her.

"I think there's someone in the house," came Brittany's voice fearfully. When Santana registered the words, she rolled her eyes.

"There is," she muttered in reply. "Us."

Brittany shook her forcefully and Santana cringed. "Okay, _ow_."

"I mean there's someone downstairs," Brittany said in a stage whisper.

A groan escaped Santana's lips. _Really_? "Just let them rob us. We're insured," replied Santana in a croaky voice. Her head was slowly beginning to clear and she didn't like it one bit.

"Santana!" said Brittany. "Wake up!" She gripped hold of Santana's shoulders and physically rolled her over so they were facing each other. Santana whimpered in protest and tried to cover her face with her hands. "We need to go and check," Brittany insisted.

"But–"

"Get up!"

"Right," said Santana mournfully. She knew there was no point in arguing when Brittany used that tone of voice.

Awkwardly, Santana pushed herself up into a sitting position. She was about to comment on how absolutely ridiculous this all was when there was a loud creaking noise somewhere outside the room. Brittany's head shot around to look at the door and then she looked back to Santana in horror. Biting down on her lip, she slowly shuffled out from under the warm covers and let her feet fall to the floor.

Unable to stop herself, she swayed a little as she stood up but was quickly steadied by Brittany's trembling hands. _As if today hasn't already been enough of a trauma_, Santana thought bitterly.

Together, they left the safety of their bedroom and stepped out onto the dark landing. Brittany made some theatrical arm gestures that Santana took to mean they were supposed to go downstairs. Honestly, Santana wasn't even sure what they were supposed to do if there actually was someone prowling around their house. Nevertheless, she and Brittany crept silently down the stairs and towards the source of the noise.

As they reached the bottom, Santana became aware of a distinct sound of footsteps coming from the kitchen. Her hand automatically reached out and gripped a fistful of Brittany's t-shirt while Brittany's nails were digging painfully into her arm. They shared a look of mute horror and Santana's heart began to race. She should have picked up something to use as freaking weapon.

They forced themselves onwards and then paused at the kitchen door. Santana took a deep breath and held up three fingers to Brittany.

_Three…two…one…_

They burst through the door and a girlish shriek assaulted Santana's ears. Brittany jumped beside her and her hand swiftly found the light switch.

Light filled the room and blinded her for a moment; Santana had to raise a hand to cover her eyes while the other clutched at her heart, which she could feel was pumping wildly. She'd seen who it was though.

"What the hell are you doing?" Santana demanded breathlessly. "You almost scared me half to death!"

"Um…" said Christina. Her skin was pale and her eyes were wide and full of fear. "I was just…"

"We thought you were a burglar," said Brittany from behind Santana. Wait…was Brittany using her as a human shield?

"Oh…" she looked Santana up and down, curiosity now colouring her face. "And you were going to take me down dressed like that?"

Santana felt heat rise to her cheeks instantly and she closed her eyes in mortification. No way had she just confronted a student wearing nothing but a small pair of shorts and a flimsy tank top. Although at least she was wearing shorts, unlike Brittany who was decked out in a baggy t-shirt and her underwear. Maybe it was a good thing her wife had elected to cower behind her.

"Yes," Brittany squeaked. Santana could still feel her shaking so she reached out and grasped Brittany's hand.

"You weren't trying to leave, were you?" asked Santana suspiciously.

Christina's face turned a little pink and she looked down. "I was going to and then I changed my mind," she said quietly. "I was just getting a glass of water but I couldn't find the light…"

An awkward silence descended with none of them quite sure how to break it.

"Erm…" said Brittany after a minute. "In retrospect, we probably should have brought something to defend ourselves with…you know…just in case it was someone trying to rob us." She rested her chin on Santana's shoulder.

"Why?" asked Santana dryly. "So you can feel safer while you hide behind me and let me confront the potentially dangerous night prowler alone?"

"Duh," replied Brittany. Christina looked at her feet nervously and Santana sighed.

"Right well…Now that I know you aren't here to pillage and plunder, I'm gonna go back to bed and do my utmost to repress the last ten minutes of my life," said Santana firmly. Christina nodded and appeared as though she'd like nothing more than to do the same. "Um…our room is right at the top of the stairs if you need me for anything." Santana was confident that under no circumstance would the girl be knocking on her bedroom door; it felt polite to offer though.

"Thanks," said Christina quietly. "I'm sorry I woke you."

"That's okay," said Brittany brightly, before Santana could reply with a dark, 'you will be'. "Just try not to wake Callie when you go back to bed."

As soon as Christina nodded, Santana found herself being pulled backwards from the room.

"We should wear more clothes next time we try to fight bad guys," Brittany whispered in her ear as they trailed back up the stairs and back into their bedroom.

"Yeah…"

"Because I'm really cold now," Brittany added. She held out her arm to show Santana the goose bumps that had appeared.

Santana chuckled as she slid into bed with Brittany close behind her.

"Sorry I made you get up for nothing," said Brittany as she curled into Santana's side.

"S'okay," Santana muttered. She was already feeling sleepy again. Obviously those pills weren't quite out of her system yet.

"What do you–"

"Let me sleep, Brittany!"

"Sorry."

* * *

"_For the love of God, Rachel! I heard you the first time_," Santana said with exasperation. "_And I'm fine, by the way. Thanks for asking_." Brittany couldn't help but grin at her evident growing irritation.

They were currently all piled into the car and driving towards the hospital. They'd decided it best that they all go because Santana couldn't really drive at the moment and they weren't sure that Christina would feel as comfortable going with just Brittany. Obviously, they couldn't leave Callie home alone, and thus taking one of Santana's Cheerios to the hospital had become something of a family event.

Due to Rachel's loud, penetrating voice, it was virtually impossible not to hear what she was saying down the phone. It was making what would probably have been a seriously awkward journey into something that Brittany was secretly enjoying a great deal. Even Callie seemed to be giggling every so often; not that Santana noticed, so thoroughly engrossed in berating Rachel for existing as she was.

"_Well, Santana, obviously Finn and I are greatly concerned for your wellbeing. I simply assumed that if you were in need of any assistance you'd have contacted me without prompting_," replied Rachel. "_Besides, this is a work call; not a personal call_."

"_Then why did I need to listen to you recite your entire conversation with Taye Diggs? 'Cause frankly, I couldn't care less about what your Saturday night consisted of_!" Santana snapped.

There was a melodramatic sigh and Rachel made a tutting sound. "_I was merely being friendly, Santana. Your hostility is completely uncalled for_."

"_Fine_," said Santana, she appeared to be putting a conscious effort into reining back the anger. "_What do you actually want, Berry_?"

"_Like I said before you proceeded to bite my head off_," began Rachel, with a perfected air of haughty distaste, "_I want you to begin a search of movies for me to star in_."

Brittany risked a sideways glance just in time to see one of Santana's signature eye rolls.

"_How many more time am I going to have to explain this to you? You can't go from the stage straight into a starring role_," said Santana as she actively hit herself in the forehead with the palm of her hand.

"_Well, I've been doing some research and_–"

"_Why?_" Santana interrupted. Brittany was pretty sure that classed as snapping again. "_Don't you have like…lines to learn? Or a magic ring to protect_?"

There was a pause. "_If you're going to continue this childish behaviour, I'm going to go_," said Rachel stiffly.

"_Good_!"

Rachel made a loud huffing sound. "_Just do your job, Santana_," she said, her voice high-pitched and annoyed.

"_I would if you'd get off the phone for more than five minutes to let me_," Santana intoned.

"_Just so you know_," said Rachel, "_If this weren't a cell, I would slam my phone down now_!"

Instead of the dramatic bang that Brittany was sure that Rachel would have preferred, there was a quiet beep as the phones where disconnected. For a brief moment, Brittany was convinced that Santana was going to hurl hers through the windscreen.

"So how was Rachel?" asked Brittany idly, earning herself a scowl which Brittany returned with bright smile. "You should try to be nicer to her, you know. She's just upset that she didn't get the part in Wicked."

Santana's features softened. "I know. I'll see if I can get her an audition for something and call her back later."

Before Brittany could reply, she spotted the entrance to the hospital an put her full attention back into driving. Santana tended to get annoyed with her when she wasn't focussing behind the wheel. Of course it was unfounded; Brittany was like…an awesome driver.

Unfortunately, it took them about fifteen minutes to actually find somewhere to park. It was clear that in the back seat, Christina was becoming more and more uncomfortable despite the lengthy game of I Spy she'd been playing with Callie pretty much since they'd left the house. Personally, Brittany found a good game of I Spy quite relaxing, but Santana had forbidden her to play. Oh well, Santana had warned her that they'd probably be sat in the waiting room for a long time, so they'd have plenty of time to play if she wanted to.

As they entered the hospital, Callie ran forward past Christina and Brittany to grip onto Santana's hand with a worried look on her face. Santana looked down and asked her if there was anything wrong, but rather than reply, the child had simply pressed herself closer to Santana's legs. Brittany had a horrible feeling she was remembering what had happened last time they were here.

Christina and Brittany sat down in the small waiting room while Santana and Callie walked over to the main desk to sign them in. Or whatever it was people did in hospitals… Brittany had been so distraught when she'd brought Santana in that Rachel and Quinn had pretty much sorted everything out for her. Brittany briefly reflected on how lucky she was to have such good friends.

"They said it could take a few hours," said Santana when she'd finished talking to the receptionist and had come back over to sit across from them. She looked around the room with distaste and visibly cringed when some old guy sneezed loudly a few chairs across from them. "I hate hospitals."

Beside her, Christina seemed to curl into herself and a look of obvious guilt crossed her face. Brittany frowned but wasn't quite sure if there was anything she could say to make her feel better at this point. Besides, Santana had a point. When Brittany actually sat back and took in the sterile white walls and hard plastic chairs, she could definitely see why Santana wasn't thrilled with the idea of hanging out here for half the day. It probably didn't help that half the other soon-to-be patients seemed to be disgustingly contagious. And you know…it was kind of cold.

After a couple of minutes of idle foot tapping and examining every inch of the waiting room, Callie turned to Santana. "Do you have to stay here again, Mama?" she asked with obvious distress.

Santana looked down at her with surprise. "No, sweetie."

"So you're coming home with us?" Callie continued to question.

An almost imperceptible smile crossed Santana's face. "Of course I am, Cal," said Santana. She pulled Callie into a one armed hug and kissed the top of her head.

When Brittany glanced sideways, she caught a hint of jealously in Christina's expression, and it wasn't the first time she'd seen it. It had been there this morning during one of the most awkward breakfasts in the history of breakfasts when Callie had accidentally knocked over a glass of orange juice. She'd burst into tears, of course, and apologised profusely; it wasn't until Brittany had pulled her into a quick hug and assured her that everything was okay and that it was just an accident that she'd caught Christina staring at her with a mixture of bewilderment and envy. It was enough to make Brittany's heart ache.

Before Brittany could dwell more on these rather unsettling thoughts, something even more troubling distracted her.

"Santana?" said a decidedly male voice.

_Oh crap. _

"Santana, is that you?" he repeated.

Brittany swiftly masked her distress and looked up at the doctor heading towards them. Despite her lack of response, Santana's eyes were darting around the room like she was looking for the quickest escape route.

"_Santana_," he said, this time louder as he drew level with the group. Brittany's gaze flickered between Doctor Lopez and her wife, whose face was steadily draining of colour. She could feel her own heart beating harder in her chest and a sickly feeling was staring to develop in her stomach.

There was an embarrassingly long pause. "Oh…Hi, Daniel," said Santana in a strained voice. He quirked an eyebrow. "_Dad_," she reluctantly corrected, just like she'd been taught to do.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Thank you for reading.

Also, for tomorrow: **Happy Valentines Day**, my lovelies! :-) I hope everyone has a good day. Personally, a couple of my friends and I are going to have a Singles Pokemon-athon, 'cause that's how I roll.

To MLE: Not yet. First I'm gonna need a lime flavoured Ring Pop…and to be wooed.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. I know it's been pretty much forever since I last updated. I blame 'Sexy'. It broke my brain and suddenly fanfiction didn't measure up. I'm back now though.

Thank you to everybody who reviewed the last chapter! It's very much appreciated. I love you all a little bit.

So yes, I'm terribly sorry for the wait. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 21_

It was like something out of an awful sitcom; except it wasn't comical so much as just…a bad situation. There was a variety of emotions on display, ranging from utter delight on Callie's face to a strange look of betrayal on Christina's that Brittany didn't quite understand.

"Hello again, Brittany," said Dr. Lopez, turning to glance at her briefly. Brittany nodded stiffly in response before they both turned their attention back to a rather sad looking Santana. "How are things?"

Once again, it took Santana a moment to reply. "Things are fine, thank you," she eventually said. Dr. Lopez raised an eyebrow at her and gestured to their surroundings.

"People who are fine don't need to be in a hospital," Lopez pointed out when he received no response.

"We aren't here for me," said Santana tonelessly. She inclined her head towards Christina who shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny.

For a moment, Lopez looked perplexed. "Is this your daughter?" he asked.

Brittany narrowed her eyes. It felt kind of weird because she didn't do it very often. "How old do you think I am?" she asked, feeling rather insulted.

"No, she is not our daughter," Santana snapped. It looked as though Callie wanted to interject at this point, presumably to explain to Lopez that _she_ was their daughter, but she seemed to sense that it probably wasn't the best time to talk. "She's one of my students." Christina nodded almost imperceptibly in agreement.

"One of your students?" Lopez questioned, he seemed to be growing more puzzled by the minute.

With a sigh, Santana rolled her eyes and scowled. "You'd know more about it if you'd answered one of my two hundred phone calls of the last ten years."

An awkward silence fell as Lopez's expression darkened.

* * *

_Santana was almost thirteen when she first met Daniel Lopez. Up until that point it was pretty much like every other day of Santana's life. She'd gone to school, made out with Noah Puckerman (who was almost as badass as she was), and then she'd gone home with Brittany so they could hang out. Okay, so how they'd ended up bouncing around the kitchen in an attempt to 'bake' something was a bit of a mystery to Santana, but it was making Brittany happy and for some reason Santana couldn't find it in herself to take that away from her. _

"_Brittany," said Santana in an exasperated voice. "The eggs are supposed to go in the bowl. Not on the counter." _

_A frown appeared on Brittany's face as she contemplated this new piece of information. "Then why doesn't it say so in the recipe?" _

"_It does!" replied Santana. Brittany frowned again and looked back at the worn cookbook they were consulting. "Well, okay, no it doesn't," Santana conceded. _

_With a small look of triumph, Brittany picked up the bowl and scraped the egg into it from the kitchen top. Santana grimaced and decided to limit her cake consumption to a bare minimum; assuming they ever actually got these things to cook. At this point, Santana was doubtful as to how successful they were going to be. Especially since Brittany had decided not to_ _actually weigh the ingredients so much as wantonly tip the bags into the bowl until it 'felt right'. She let out a small sigh and handed Brittany the wooden spoon in her hand so she could mix. _

"_How many do you think we'll be able to make?" Brittany asked as she looked thoughtfully at their doughy concoction. Santana was pretty sure it was suppose to have a thinner consistency by this point. _

"_Dunno," she replied, shrugging her shoulders. "Book says twelve." _

"_Are you sure?" Brittany said rather sceptically. "They don't look like real words to me." _

_Santana grabbed a pinch of flour and threw it in Brittany's direction. "It's Spanish." _

"_Oh!" said Brittany with a look of dawning comprehension. "That's why it's so confusing!" _

_With a short laugh, Santana nodded her head. She probably should have explained that to her friend earlier. No wonder she'd not been putting the right ingredients into their cake mix. Sometimes, Santana forgot that not everyone understood both languages. Brittany usually understood what she was saying regardless of the words she used. It was just one of those best friends forever things the two of them had going on. _

_She was so engrossed in watching Brittany fail to combine the ingredients to their cake without getting half of it all over the floor that she didn't hear the front door open. Not until she heard her mother's laughter ring out through the house. It took Santana a moment to actually recognise it as her mother because she wasn't really used to the sound of her laughter. She took a sweeping look around the ruined kitchen and a variety of curse words ran through her head; she'd though she'd have more time to clean all this up. _

"_Santana?" called her mother's distinctive voice. _

_Santana flinched a little while Brittany smiled. Despite the fact that her mom most certainly wasn't Brittany's biggest fan, for reasons that still remained a mystery to Santana, Brittany was always pleased for the opportunity to catch up with the older version of her friend. _

"_I'm in the kitchen," she shouted back, a little reluctantly. _

_For a moment, she entertained the idea of doing a very quick cleanup while her mother was still in the hall, but it only took a quick glance to tell her that there was absolutely no way to salvage the wreck. Naturally, Brittany seemed oblivious to the problem and continued to idly stir what little was left in their mixing bowl. _

_Her mother said something else that Santana couldn't quite make out and it was quickly followed by the sound of a deep male chortle. Santana furrowed her brows in confusion and Brittany shot her a cautious look; her mom usually didn't bring her boyfriends home, although Santana knew full well that she had them. Sneaking men in and out of the house while Santana was supposed to be sleeping wasn't as effective at keeping them a secret as her mother seemed to believe it was. _

_Before Santana could contemplate this further, the door swung open and in stepped her mother with a very tall Hispanic man in tow. If she hadn't been so certain that she was about to be grounded for the rest of her natural born life, the look on her mom's face would have amused Santana to no end. She looked around the kitchen with absolute mortification while the man next to her began to chuckle. _

"_Hi, Eva!" said Brittany, breaking to rising tension in the room. _

"_Brittany," replied her mother stiffly. She shot Santana an angry look before schooling her features into something more socially acceptable. _

"_Hi, mom," said Santana meekly. "Um…me and Brittz were just making cakes…" _

"_So I see," replied her mother, casting a critical eye over the bowl in Brittany's hand. _

"_I'll clean it up when we're done," Santana promised. Her mother raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Santana assumed she was being saved from a humiliating dressing-down because of the guy stood beside her. _

"_You'll have to save me a cake when you're finished," said the man finally. Her mother seemed to snap out of her stupor and she positively beamed at him. It made Santana feel a little ill. _

"_Santana, dear," said her mother in a saccharine voice, "This is Doctor Lopez." _

_Lopez held out his hand and Santana shook it reluctantly. He struck quite an imposing figure, Santana noticed, and though he smiled at her, through it she could see rather a stern expression on his face. After only that first sentence, Santana already knew what her mother saw in this guy; he clearly had money. She knew her knock-offs, and that Rolex on his wrist was no fake. Nor was the Prada bag her mother was now sporting; a bag that she most certainly hadn't owned earlier than morning. _

"_It's nice to meet you, Santana," he said. His voice was educated and clear. "I've heard a lot about you." _

_Before Santana could tell him that she hadn't been granted the same courtesy, her mother shot her a warning glare. "Er yeah…you too," she replied. _

_All in all, even though she didn't especially like it, Santana rather approved. _

* * *

After a moment, Lopez shook his head in disappointment. "You're being incredibly rude, Santana. I thought I taught you better than this."

Santana bit back the urge to utter that tired cliché of 'you're not my real dad', and instead chose to fold her arms across her chest. What she wouldn't give for this not to be happening right now…in front of her daughter and one of her students of all places. The guarded but interested look on Christina's face made her want to punch a wall. Not to mention the way she could practically feel Callie itching to ask a million questions beside her. This was all going to be fun to explain away later.

There was a sudden slump in Lopez's shoulders and he glanced away. If Santana didn't know better, she'd think it was a look of defeat.

"Look, Santana," he began in a hesitant voice, "I know things between us have never been what one would call 'happy', but I'm still your stepfather whether you like it or not."

_Or not_ was on the tip of her tongue, but she nodded once and let her eyes drift over to her wife, who shot her an encouraging smile. It was enough to make Santana relax a little at least. Lopez seemed to notice and he pushed his hands into his pockets and gazed at the small group consideringly.

"You're going to be here for hours," he remarked calmly. "Unless you'd like me to take a look at her instead?"

Santana felt her mouth drop open in surprise. She honestly couldn't remember a time when he'd willingly offered to put himself out for her. If anything, he seemed to actively put himself out just to piss her off.

* * *

_It was the sound of vibrations against hard wood that woke her. She grumbled unhappily into her pillow before blindly reaching out to grasp her phone from the bedside table. It took her a couple of minutes before she could bring herself to actually pry her bleary eyes open. She scanned the small screen as she made a note of the time; six am. Her thumb rose to open the text, but before she could, a second one caused further vibrations against her palm. She let out a small sigh._

_Both from Brittany, she observed before opening the first one. _

'Let me in!'

_Santana frowned and opened the second one. _

'It's cold. Hurry up.'

_Unwillingly, she rolled out of bed and staggered to her feet. Okay, so she might not want to, but she knew that if she didn't move her ass into gear now she'd never hear the end of it. Brittany could be unbearable when she didn't get her own way; a fact that the rest of the world seemed strangely oblivious to. _

_When she reached the front door, she could hear a faint tapping sound that alerted her to Brittany's presence. She fumbled with the lock for a moment and then pulled the door open with a scowl firmly on her face. _

_Then she was hit by something very solid. _

_A muffled cry of surprise escaped her lips as Brittany practically threw herself into Santana's arms and hugged her tightly. _

"_Happy Birthday, Santana!" she said cheerfully into Santana's messy black hair. _

_Santana swallowed against her dry throat and wrapped her arms around her assailant. _

"_Thanks, Brittz," she said, her voice thick with sleep. _

_They stood there in silence until Santana began to shiver from the cold air blowing in from outside. She pulled free of her friend and gently closed the door so as not to wake her mother. Her mom had never been a morning person and it was more than Santana's life was worth to risk waking her so early. So, turning back to Brittany, Santana pressed her finger to her lips; the universal sign for quiet. Brittany mimicked her with her free hand and grinned. _

_Together, they made their way up to Santana's bedroom and then crawled under her rumpled covers. _

_Santana groaned. "Britt, do you realise what time it is?" she asked, genuinely not sure whether Brittany knew the answer. _

"_Just after six," replied Brittany promptly. "On your birthday." _

"_Yeah," said Santana with a snort. _

"_Do you want your present yet?" said Brittany. She gestured to a small gift bag lying on Santana's floor amongst a pile of clothes. _

"_Duh," said Santana with a raised eyebrow. _

_Brittany flashed her a smile and scrambled out of bed to grab the predominantly pink bag. It was exactly the kind of wrapping Santana would expect from Brittany. Bright, gaudy and decorated with a variety of clashing ribbons. It was pretty perfect, really._

"_Open it," Brittany said as she thrust the eyesore into Santana's outstretched hands. _

_Not needing to be told twice, Santana attempted to open the bag. She frowned, for the first time noticing the excessive amount of sticky tape layered over the top. _

"_Brittany, I've seen banks that are easier to break into than this," said Santana with a bemused look at her friend. _

"_I didn't want the cricket to steal it," replied Brittany blandly. _

_Wisely deciding it was better not to ask, Santana nodded and reached over to grab her house key from her bedside table. She congratulated herself on her ingenuity as she used it to saw along the opening of the bag. Beside her, Brittany began to bounce gently up and down in excitement. _

_Santana forced her hand into the bag and wrapped her fingers around a small box. She grinned and pulled it out to examine it closely. _

"_Open it," Brittany prompted again. _

_Santana lifted the lid and felt a wide smile cross her face. She picked up the charm bracelet and looked at it carefully. _

"_Look," said Brittany. She pulled out a second identical bracelet from her pocket and held it up to Santana. "We'll match!" she said excitedly and Santana chuckled. _

"_Thanks, Britt," she said fondly. _

"_You like it?" said Brittany hopefully. _

"_I love it," Santana confirmed. She leaned over and gave Brittany a quick peck on the cheek. "Thank you." _

* * *

Santana and Christina walked side by side down a typical hospital corridor behind Dr. Lopez. The strong smell of antiseptic made Santana's nose itch and she glanced around in revulsion. She had kind of hoped she wouldn't be back here this soon after her last _visit_. Beside her, Christina shoved her hands into the pockets of her jeans and looked down nervously.

"Hey," Santana said softly. Christina tilted her head. "Do you want me to come in or do you want me to stay outside?"

It took a moment, but Christina shrugged her shoulders. "Whatever."

Dismissive though she sounded, Santana picked up on the waver of fear in her voice. So, when Lopez stopped in front of one of the doors and gestured for them to go inside, Santana followed Christina and sat herself down on the chair beside the bed. _Ugh_. It looked exactly like the one she'd stayed in.

"Right then," said Lopez seriously. "What seems to be the problem?"

Christina shot Santana a worried look and she nodded in what she hoped was an encouraging manner.

Slowly, the girl removed her outer coat to reveal the deep scratches and cuts along her arms. Santana gulped and looked away; they appeared much worse in the cold light of day. Naturally, Lopez showed had no outward reaction. Santana couldn't actually remember a time when he ever had. As a teenager she'd been positive it was because he had some robot ancestry in his family tree. Now that she was an adult, she knew better. She was now only fifty percent sure that was true.

As Lopez advanced on Christina, she flinched away from him. He paused for a moment.

"So, Santana tells me you're one of her students?" he said conversationally. It was a painfully obvious attempt to make her relax a little, but Christina nodded anyway.

"I'm a cheerleader," she replied, sounding rather pleased with herself.

Lopez nodded his head. "Is Sue Sylvester still the coach?"

Santana looked at him curiously. She was genuinely surprised he'd remembered the name. "She is," Santana answered. "She's away on…She's away and I'm her stand-in until she comes back."

"I wish she wouldn't," Christina mumbled.

"Why is that?" Lopez asked, gingerly wrapping his fingers around her wrist so he could examine some of her injuries more closely.

"Just before Christmas she had Fran walking across a tightrope," said Christina dryly. "I bet you can guess how well that turned out."

Santana frowned. "When I was at school, she tried to fire Brittany out of a cannon." She paused thoughtfully. "I'm honestly not sure why she's still allowed around children."

"What happened?" asked Christina with interest, seemingly now oblivious to the way Lopez was twisting her arm around so he could see it from a different angle.

"We quit for the rest of the year," said Santana with a shrug.

A horrified look crossed Christina's face and Santana would be lying if she said she could blame her. She could still remember the sense of impending doom when she'd gone to school the next day without her Cheerios uniform. It felt like she'd been stripped of layers of defences and she had lived on tenterhooks for weeks while she waited for the other shoe to drop. As it turned out, the bullying hadn't been as bad and she'd expected. For a while though, it still felt a little bit like the end of the world. Now, Santana knew better. Looking back on it, her high school worries seemed ridiculous. In the long run it honestly hadn't mattered who was popular and who wasn't, but when she thought about it, Santana wasn't sure if there was anything she'd really change. She liked the idea of making better choices, but would she be the same person she was today if things had been different?

She shook her head a little to try and dispel her thoughts and focussed her attention back on the girl in front of her. Christina seemed to be pressing her back as far into the wall as she possibly could to escape Lopez's close inspection.

"How did this happen?" asked Lopez in a low voice. If Santana didn't know better, she'd say there was a hint of concern somewhere buried in his words.

Christina visibly cringed and looked at Santana pleadingly. Torn between wanting to save her from the obvious distress she was suffering from but also wanting to know the answer, Santana reached out and grasped Christina's hand in her own. She was pretty sure she was breaking one of the many student-teacher boundaries she was supposed to adhere to, but she told herself that it counted as 'special circumstances'. At first, Christina didn't respond, but then she intensified her grip on Santana's hand with almost painful force.

"I smashed one of my dad's whisky bottles and he tried to hit me with it," said Christina quietly. The effort that every word seemed to cost her caused Santana's throat to tighten.

"I'm sorry," said Dr. Lopez after a moment of silence. Santana couldn't help but search his face for insincerity; it really shouldn't have come as a surprise to her when she didn't find any. He'd always been far more interested in his patients than in her.

Christina shrugged but said nothing. Santana got the distinct impression she was trying not to cry.

"Well," said Lopez, clearing his throat. "You could have done with some stitches, but I'm afraid it's too late now. Some of these are probably going to scar I'm sorry to say." Sharp nails began to dig into Santana's hand. "It doesn't look like there's any infection, but you should take a round of antibiotics just in case and I'll get you some antiseptic cream."

"Okay," said Christina. Her voice was small and broken.

"Do you have any other injuries?" asked Dr. Lopez. She shook her head and he nodded rather doubtfully. "Okay," he said, taking a step back and switching his glance to Santana. "Can I speak to you outside for a minute?" he said. It wasn't really a question.

* * *

_When Santana and Brittany went down to the kitchen for breakfast just before midday (or was it lunch now?), she was only a little surprised to find her mother conveniently absent. She must have gone out sometime after Santana had fallen back to sleep. As it was her birthday, and a Saturday, she'd insisted that Brittany allow her to stay in bed for as long as she wanted. Naturally, Brittany agreed. _

"_Should I make food?" asked Brittany with an interested look around the kitchen. _

_Remembering full well what had happened last time Brittany had attempted to cook, Santana shook her head. "I'll do it." _

_With a pout, Brittany sat down at the table. "But it's your birthday," she pointed out. _

"_Yeah," said Santana quietly. "Doesn't matter."_

_In the end, Santana threw a pizza in the oven and she and Brittany sat in the living room and watched re-runs of Friends for most of the day. It was a nice change; she was usually in school on her birthday. A few texts came through from various people wishing her a happy birthday, but she didn't hear anything from her mother until she laughingly stumbled through the front door some time in the early evening. _

"_Oh, _Doctor_ Lopez," she said in a flirty voice and Santana couldn't help the look of disgust that crossed her face. Brittany reached over and linked their pinkies together without taking her eyes off the TV. _

_There was the sound of a commotion in the hall and the two adults laughed. Santana made a quiet noise of revulsion and about five seconds later, they wandered into the room. _

"_Hello, girls," said her mother cheerfully. _

"_Hi," said Santana. _

"_Hi, Eva." _

"_How has your day been?" her mom continued. Santana dimly noted that she had her arm threaded through Lopez's. _

"_It's been great," said Santana dryly. _

_An annoyed look flickered in her mother's eyes but it swiftly vanished. _

"_Happy birthday, Santana," said the man finally. Oh. So she had remembered and just didn't care, thought Santana bitterly. _

"_Thanks," replied Santana shortly. She turned her attention back to the TV._

"_Santana," her mother scolded. She bit back a sigh and Brittany smiled rather blankly at her. Why was it that her own mother had ditched her on her own birthday, and yet she was the one who felt guilty for some reason? _

"_We've brought you a present," said Lopez, his attempt to lighten the tone obvious. _

_At the prospect of a gift, Santana instantly perked up. "Oh?" _

_The look on her mother's face suggested that she'd rather withhold the gift out of spite, but she thrust her hand into her bag and pulled out a box wrapped in a cream plastic bag. Santana recognised it as being from the expensive jewellery shop in town and grinned. Although, she felt like they could have made more of an effort to not make it obvious that they'd only just bought it for her. It's not like her birthday had come as a surprise to, you know…the woman who gave birth to her. She pushed those thoughts aside and accepted the box and quickly unravelled the 'wrapping'. She lifted the lid of the box and gaped. _

_She took hold of the white gold bangle and ran a delicate finger over what was undoubtedly a real diamond adorning the top. She didn't notice the rather despondent glance that Brittany shot the forgotten charm bracelet dangling from Santana's wrist. This was…well…a lot more than she'd been expecting. Being a single parent meant that Santana's mother wasn't exactly wealthy. For her birthday last year, her mom had bought her a scented candle and a new pair of socks. Not that she hadn't been grateful; because she had. Sort of. It was better than what she'd got when her dad had been around, which was sweet nothing. _

"_Wow," she said after a full minute of examining her new possession. _

"_I'm glad you like it," said her mother dryly. _

"_Thanks, mom," she said happily, even though she knew full well that Doctor Lopez was obviously the benefactor of her shiny new toy. In her delight, the fact that her mother had actively chosen to spend her daughter's birthday hanging out with her new man-friend completely disappeared from Santana's mind. It was probably just a one time thing anyway._

"_It's really pretty," Brittany commented softly. _

_Santana nodded idly and then placed it carefully back in the box. "It's awesome." _

_There was a pause. "What are your plans for dinner?" asked her mother._

"_Huh?" said Santana with confusion. Her mother pursed her lips in disapproval. _

"_I'm afraid Daniel and I have plans this evening, Santana. You and Brittany are going to have to fend for yourselves," she said._

"_Oh," replied Santana. She successfully kept the disappointment from her voice and dimly noted the way Brittany's gaze fell to her knees awkwardly. "Where are you going?" _

"_Doctor Lopez has an important business dinner," said her mother airily. _

"_Unavoidable, I'm afraid," Lopez added with faux sympathy. _

"_Oh," Santana repeated. "We'll just order Chinese then," she said with a disinterested shrug. _

_Instantly, Lopez's hand shot to his pocket. He pulled out a crisp twenty dollar note and forced it into Santana's hand. "It's your birthday," he said by way of explanation. _

"_Er…thanks," said Santana, while her mother beamed. _

* * *

"What the hell is going on, Santana?" Lopez practically hissed at her. He glanced around the corridor to make sure nobody was around.

Santana tried to quell an unexpected surge of fear; old habits died hard, she guessed. "I think it's fairly obvious what's going on," she replied.

Lopez gave her a hard look and pressed his lips into a thin line. It was amazing how a few harsh words and cold glances made her feel like a wayward teenager again. Shoulders slumped of their own volition and Santana had to actively fight to hold her head up high and meet his gaze. She internally cursed her own body for trying to betray her in this way.

"You realise you need to go to the police, I hope?" said Lopez after a moment.

Arms folded, Santana narrowed her eyes. "Of course I do. I'm not stupid."

A noise a disbelief passed Lopez's lips and he looked Santana up and down critically. "I'm glad some things have changed then."

Santana's breath caught in her throat and she began to blink rapidly against a horribly familiar stinging in her eyes. Years of repressed hurt and anger started to rise to the surface as she clenched her hands into tight fists. _No_, she told herself firmly, _this isn't about you_. Not without difficulty, Santana swallowed. She pushed back every negative thought and every niggling feeling to the back of her mind and tried to focus on what was important.

"How should I do it?" she said, her voice breaking almost unnoticeably. "Should I just take her to the police station?"

"No," replied Lopez rather grimly. "I'll call social services. Wait here."

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **I can't tell you how much I've ummed and ahhed over this chapter. Sorry for any mistakes; I've only checked it once. Will be back to fix them tomorrow.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it and thanks for reading. Have I mentioned how sorry I am for the delay?

MLE: Even though Valentines has passed, I am still open to being serenaded. Just sayin'.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Hola, my lovelies. As always, there aren't enough words in the English language to express my gratitude to the people who are still reading this now novel-length fic and especially to the people who have taken the time to review.

I would also like to thank **kempokarate12** in particular because she makes such beautiful music, and also because she inspired Santana's reading material. Jolly good show, old bean *claps*. Speaking of beautiful music, I just realised I've never said where the title of this fic came from. So if anybody is interested: Put on a Happy Face – Blossom Dearie; because I'm a bit lame and love me some ye olde jazz music.

Anywho, hope you enjoy the next chapter!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 22_

An awkward silence hung in the air and Santana opened and closed her mouth more than once in a failed effort to break it. Christina had her back pressed to the wall and seemed to have curled herself into the smallest ball she possible could have. She looked, in a word, miserable.

Santana ran a hand through her hair and glanced at the door. Nervousness coiled in her stomach; all this waiting around put her on edge in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

There was a knock and both Santana and Christina jumped. They shared an embarrassed smile as Brittany poked her head around the door.

"Oh thank God," she said in relief. Callie pushed past her and leapt onto the hospital bed. "This is like…the third room I've walked into."

Santana grinned as she felt some of the tension leave her body. "Never change, Britt-Britt."

"Why would I want to do that?" asked Brittany innocently. She followed Callie and perched at the bottom of the bed. "So what's the plan, San?"

"That rhymes," Callie commented idly before Santana could reply.

"Wait for social services to get here," said Santana quietly. Brittany nodded solemnly, her eyes becoming sad.

"What's social services?" asked Callie. She looked between Santana and Brittany expectantly.

"Er…"

"They're the people who are gonna take me away from my dad and dump me in foster care," replied Christina bitterly. Brittany's face fell even further.

"What's foster care?" Callie prompted.

There was a mutinous look in the teenager's eyes that Santana didn't like one bit. "Sweetie, maybe you should–"

"–They're a couple of people who I'm going to be shipped off to so they can make sure I don't die on the streets or something," Christina interrupted her.

"Christina," began Santana sharply. She understood how hard this was for the girl, sort of, but potentially terrorising Callie with this information was absolutely unacceptable.

"Why can't you stay with your mama?" asked Callie, her nose scrunching in way that made her look almost identical to Brittany.

"Don't have one anymore," said Christina with a shrug.

Callie's eyes widened with distress. "Not even one?" she asked quietly. Despite the situation, Santana had to slap her hand to her mouth to stop the laughter from escaping. Callie was still too young to understand that it wasn't exactly conventional to have two mothers. Judging from the beginnings of a smirk Brittany was wearing, it was obviously amusing her wife too.

Thankfully, the hateful expression on Christina's face seemed to soften a little as she shook her head. The wistful look that replaced it though was even more upsetting.

"Maybe I should take Callie to have another look around the gift shop," said Brittany gently. Agreement was on the tip of Santana's tongue, but…

"No," said Christina quickly. Her head dropped in embarrassment and she began to trace small shapes on the thin blanket nervously. "I mean…You don't have to go. I'm sorry."

Before Santana could respond, Callie was ambling over to the devastated cheerleader and sat herself beside her. She shuffled over and cuddled up into Christina's side.

"I'm sorry you don't have any moms," said Callie softly. Santana felt an unexpected surge of love for her daughter as the tension leaked from Christina's shoulders and she wrapped a thin arm around the child.

"Thanks," Christina whispered as a couple of stray tears made their way down her face.

* * *

_Despite being alone in her room, Santana sighed dramatically. The weather had been beyond terrible pretty much all week, but on the day before she had to hand in her essay on 'Of Mice and Men', the sun had decided to come out in full force. She should definitely be out working on her tan rather than being cooped up in her tiny bedroom forcing herself to read a_ book. _A _book_, for goodness sake. She'd really tried to write the essay without it, but Wikipedia only got her so far. Plus, she could really do with trying to keep her grades up and her teacher always seemed to _know_ when people had got all their information from the internet. It was like she had some stupid sixth sense about it. _

_Although, as far as books went, this wasn't the worst she'd ever had to endure. _

_She glanced wistfully out the window and sighed once more; Brittany was probably playing on her new trampoline now. Reluctantly, she turned her attention back to the task at hand. _

"Books ain't no good," _she read under her breath. "You said it, Crooks."_ A guy needs somebody – to be near him. A guy goes nuts–

_There was a sharp rap on the door and Santana pursed her lips. She hadn't spoken to her mother in about four days, but when she was actually trying to work was naturally when she stopped by for a chat. _

"_Yeah?" Santana called, resting the book on the bed beside her. _

_The door handle turned and as predicted, her mother stepped into the room. What wasn't expected was the somewhat hesitant look on her face. Santana watched carefully as she shut the door softly and then folded her arms across her chest. _

"_Hey, mom," Santana said suspiciously when she made no effort to start a conversation._

"_Santana," was her curt reply. "I think we need to talk." _

_Talking was not something Santana often did with Eva, and the prospect of it was giving Santana an odd sense of foreboding. She narrowed her eyes. "What about?" she said in a flippant tone that she knew would drive her mother insane. _

_Rather than snap out a reply like she normally would have, Eva took a deep, calming breath. "Daniel proposed to me," she said finally. Santana's mouth dropped open in shock. _

"_Why?" Santana forced out after a long pause. _

_The familiar scowl worked its way back onto Eva's thin face as she drew herself up to her full height, which admittedly wasn't very tall. _

"_Because he loves me," she bit back. The word 'love' sounded somewhat strange coming from her mother's lips and Santana frowned. _

_But then…when she thought about it, Santana realised she should have seen this coming. Her mother had been sort of different lately. It had been a gradual shift, but she seemed…Santana wouldn't say 'happy' as such, but she certainly appeared to be less depressed. Not that depressed was a word that Santana liked to bandy about; she was a firm believer in not dwelling on such useless emotions. She personally preferred to go down the 'power through and pretend things didn't happen' route. _

_Either way, her mom hadn't been in her usual foul mood for the last few months. Santana wasn't sure it was an impending marriage kind of joy, but it made the atmosphere in the house somewhat lighter. _

_A thought rose unbidden into Santana's mind and she shivered unconsciously. "But…" she began weakly. _

"_But what?" said Eva sharply. Santana flinched and her mother's face seemed to soften. She sat herself down on the end of the bed and Santana suddenly felt less like she was being bullied into submission. _

_She didn't want to say it. She didn't even want to think about it. "But…" she said again. "What about dad?" _

"_What about him?" asked Eva bitterly. The light in her eyes dimmed a little and Santana felt her heart speed up with anxiety. _

"_Aren't you still married to him?" said Santana. She already wished she hadn't started this line of enquiry. _

"_Your father has been missing for almost three years," said Eva. She reached up a hand and brushed a lock of dark, curly hair from her face. "I've had him proclaimed dead." Wishful thinking, perhaps. _

_Santana thought about this for a moment. "Oh," she said. Her gaze fell down her book and she began to tap gently on the spine. _

"_Santana," said Eva, her tone noticeably less harsh. "Can you look at me please?" _

_Unwillingly, Santana raised her head and her eyes locked with a pair so very similar to her own. _

"_This is a great thing for me, Santana," said her mother earnestly. "For us," she then corrected. Santana nodded, though she honestly didn't understand how inviting another man into their lives could ever be a good thing. She remembered all too vividly what had happened the last time they pretended to be a conventional family. _

"_Okay," said Santana finally. "Whatever. I don't care." _

_A sigh escaped Eva's lips. "He has money, Santana."_

"_I noticed," replied Santana, feeling suddenly sick. _

"_Do you understand though?" her mother persisted. Then there was something different. A look on her face that Santana didn't recognise. If she didn't know any better, she'd think it was a glimmer of hope. "We can get out of Lima Heights and move somewhere where it's safe to walk the streets after six. You can get a new bedroom and redecorate it however you want." Santana cast a glance around at the dirty wallpaper peeling away from the walls and her threadbare dark carpet. "I can take fewer shifts at the clinic," she trailed off thoughtfully. "And it's nice to have someone around to talk to." _

_Santana pushed back the small niggling of hurt at that last part. She's someone, and she has been around. "Right," she said. "I get it." And even if she didn't, it wasn't like her mom would be changing her plans to accommodate it. _

"_I'm glad," said Eva after a moment, her tone was suddenly more familiar. It was like something in the air snapped and Santana found herself sitting up a little straighter. "So I'm going to need you to behave yourself around Daniel. No more of this sulking; you're too old for this now, Santana." _

_In response, Santana rolled her eyes. "Right, I'll be nice to House." _

_A beat. "Make sure you are," said her mother softly. She rose to her feet and hesitated a moment, then she took a step forward and pressed a kiss to Santana's cheek. "We're going to be fine," she said distantly and Santana smiled and nodded. Of course they'd be fine. They always were. _

_Santana watched as her mother moved to leave. _

"_Do you love him?" she blurted out. _

_Her mother turned her head, hand on the half open door. She looked at Santana with a considering look on her face. "Does it matter?" she said, then she was gone. _

_Santana sagged against her headboard, her eyes falling on the open pages of her book. No, she supposed it didn't. _

* * *

Santana drummed her foot nervously against the side of the chair. She, Brittany and Callie had been evicted from Christina's room as soon as social services had arrived because they apparently needed to speak to the girl alone. Santana honestly didn't know why she was so anxious. After this, she probably wouldn't even have anything else to do with the kid outside of the Cheerios. Why would she?

The hall was pretty much empty apart from the occasional doctor or nurse rushing by. Thankfully, her stepfather hadn't made a reappearance as of yet so hurrah for small miracles. Then something caught her attention.

"Brittany…what the hell are you humming?" asked Santana incredulously.

Brittany smiled. "Friday!"

"As in…"

"It's Friday, Friday, gettin' down on Friday," Brittany clarified, seeming pleased that it was she who was explaining something to Santana for a change instead of the other way around.

"O…kay," said Santana with an exasperated shake of her head. "I'm going to need to you stop that." Quite frankly, this day was bad enough with listening to Brittany hum that inane tune. And she used the word 'tune' very loosely. If nothing else, it was only Tuesday.

"But it's catchy," Brittany protested.

"Yeah," Santana agreed. "Catchy like leprosy is catchy."

Brittany pouted and folded her arms. "I like it," she said sulkily.

"I do too," Callie piped up from Brittany's lap. Santana pursed her lips; she was pretty sure that Brittany was purposely training Callie to disagree with her at every possible opportunity. They were clearly conspiring to stage some kind of mutiny against her.

"Outvoted once again, Lopez," said Brittany cheerfully.

Before Santana could snap out what would have undoubtedly been a hilariously witty reply, the hospital door next to them swung open and she was instantly distracted. Out stepped the social service worker and the accompanying policeman with matching grim expressions and Santana jumped to her feet.

"_Coach_ Lopez, I presume," said the social worker with a small smile. The policeman nodded in greeting before turning away from the group and walking hastily out of sight.

"Hi," said Callie brightly. The woman waved to her before focussing her attention back onto Santana.

"I'm Monica Tyne," said the woman, holding out her hand for Santana to shake. As she did so, Santana did a quick appraisal of her appearance. A little older than she'd have expected, but her grey eyes, which perfectly matched her iron-grey hair, were kind, if not a little weary. Santana released her hand and nodded in satisfaction.

"Santana Lopez," she replied.

A sardonic smile appeared on the woman's face. "I surmised as much," she replied in a deep voice. "You received quite a few honourable mentions in Miss Rains' tale."

Santana nodded slowly, not entirely sure whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. "How is she?" she asked.

The smile faded from Tyne's face. "I think she'll be just fine," she replied firmly. Her eyes told a different story. "Christina tells me she has an aunt on her mother's side who I'm to contact. Apparently she doesn't think highly my chances of getting in touch though. She's out of town."

"What will happen if you can't contact her?" replied Santana.

"We'll go through the usual channels," said Tyne seriously. "I'll find her a temporary foster home and go from there. It's all dependant on the aunt at this point."

Santana felt her heart sink. Getting shoved into foster care just like Christina had said would happen.

"I have a couple of phone calls to make," said Tyne after a moment. "You can go back in if you like. I'll be back in a few minutes." Santana nodded and watched the woman walk away.

Instead of going back into the hospital room, she sat herself back down beside Brittany and looked at her carefully. Brittany smiled knowingly and nodded her head ever so slightly.

"You do what you have to do, Santana," she said gently. "You know I'll support you no matter what."

Santana let out breath she hadn't realised she'd been holding and laughed. She honestly wasn't sure what she'd ever done to deserve such unwavering loyalty. Or at what point Brittany had developed the ability to literally read her mind. They were both something of a puzzle that she resolved to think about at a later date. "Thanks, Brittany," she replied fondly.

They sat quietly for a few minutes until Monica Tyne made a reappearance. The unhappy look on her face told Santana all she needed to know.

Before she could return to Christina's room, Santana took her to one side and nervously stuttered out her offer. The social worker seemed surprised and a little doubtful at first, but Santana had ways of turning opinions around and getting what she wanted. Her job was pretty much dependant on her powers of persuasion after all, and once she'd stopped using sex as a bargaining chip in high school, she'd had to pursue other alternatives. She'd actually become quite adept at it.

Eventually, Tyne nodded in agreement. "This is a generous offer, Mrs Lopez, but before we go and sign any papers, I think it would be prudent to ask Christina what she wants first."

Oh, yeah. Santana pulled a face; in her zeal to protect the girl from foster care she'd actually forgotten that Christina might consider that to be a better alternative. When she thought about it, she knew full well that she wouldn't have wanted to live with any of her teachers in high school, however temporary. Though she was sure Mr. Schue would have offered if needs be.

"Yeah," said Santana with a curt nod. "Right."

Tyne smiled kindly at her. "If you'd just wait out here I'd like to speak to Christina alone again."

Santana nodded and resumed her place next to Brittany.

"What's going on?" asked Callie immediately. She was bouncing up and down on Brittany's knee restlessly and Santana could tell there was nothing the child wanted more than to run up and down the hallways to burn off some of that excess energy. Poor kid was probably bored out of her mind.

"Nothing, sweetie," she replied reflexively. "Not yet anyway," she then muttered under her breath.

Beside her, Brittany reached over and linked their pinkies together. No words were spoken, but they didn't really need to be. As had been already established, Brittany could read her mind anyway.

They waited there for another fifteen minutes (it felt more like an hour, but whatever) before the social worker finally exited the room and decided to grace them with her presence once more. Santana searched her face for some kind of clue about what had been said, but the woman was thoroughly impassive.

"She wants to talk to you," said Tyne. Brittany squeezed her hand before releasing her.

"Okay," said Santana as she nervously rose to her feet. Tyne gave another of her sardonic little smiles and gestured to the door. She then ushered Santana out of the way and took her place next to Brittany.

"Go on then," Tyne prompted. Santana scowled, feeling oddly like she was being told off by a school teacher. Despite her annoyance, she turned away from the small group.

Santana re-entered the room slowly; she didn't want to startle the occupant. Christina looked up at her with a completely blank expression and Santana sat down on the chair next to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

Christina shrugged, a shadow passing across her face. "I'm not feeling anything."

With a wry smile, Santana nodded her head. "Not knowing what you feel isn't the same as not feeling anything at all." She could tell Christina was resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Now probably wasn't the time for asinine platitudes. She kind of already wished she hadn't said it.

"You wanted to talk to me?" Santana then said instead.

"Yeah," said Christina in a croaky voice. "I want to know why you're doing this?"

Brows furrowed, Santana cocked her head to one side. "Why I'm doing what?"

"Why you're offering to let me stay with you," said Christina suspiciously.

Santana opened her mouth to reply, but then she realised she didn't have one. Her shoulders slumped as she took in the broken girl in front of her.

"Because I want to help you," said Santana finally.

The sceptical look on Christina's face remained unwavering. "Why though?" she asked again. "There's nothing in it for you."

Santana sighed. "Look, kid, I said I was going to help you and I'm standing by it. If you'd rather go into foster care for a while then you know…that's okay. I won't be offended. I just thought I'd offer because I've seen enough TV to know that foster care probably isn't that great."

Christina's gaze fell to her knees and once again Santana had to fight off her maternal instincts to offer comfort. Ugh…what had Callie done to her?

"I…" began the girl. She gripped the bed clothes between her fingers and twisted it anxiously. "I don't want to be an imposition."

"That puts you in a very small minority then," said Santana musingly. "I'm pretty sure a lot of my so-called friends actively go out of their way to be an imposition."

She earned a very weak smile for that one. It vanished almost instantly.

"Mrs. Tyne said that the police are going to my house," Christina said quietly. "My dad's gonna be so angry with me."

"Let him be," replied Santana dismissively, pointedly ignoring the small stab of fear. The lingering effects of her night terror were making themselves apparent once more. _What perfect timing_, Santana thought to herself with frustration. Christina gave her a hard look through tired, bloodshot eyes.

"He's still my dad," was all she said.

"I'm sorry," said Santana. She wasn't quite sure what she was apologising for, but Christina seemed to accept it anyway.

An awkward silence filled the room; Santana wondered how many more of these she should expect. Although, Christina still hadn't given her an answer either way.

"I don't think I like your step-dad very much," said Christina eventually.

Santana shrugged with a wry smirk. "He's not so bad. Can't really blame him for not liking me very much. I'm not his daughter…and I wasn't the easiest teenager to get along with."

"I find that hard to believe," said Christina with the faintest trace of ironic amusement in her voice. Then she seemed to remember who she was talking to and she looked up at Santana in horror. "Sorry."

With a roll of her eyes, Santana simply shook her head. "Already with the verbal attacks? I'm wounded."

The lines on Christina's face seemed to smooth out a little as she relaxed. She'd obviously been expecting a very different reaction.

There was a pause. "You wouldn't be an imposition," said Santana, holding eye contact to make sure the girl understood. "I wouldn't have offered otherwise." Christina nodded, still looking a little dubious. "Besides," Santana added, "Callie seems to like you. You can repay me in babysitting duties. How is your Disney trivia?"

"Uh…" said Christina. "Not great."

"Mm," replied Santana, bringing a finger to her lips and tapping on them thoughtfully. "That might be a problem." At the unsure look on Christina's face, Santana couldn't help but smile. "Like I said," she continued, "It's entirely up to you. You're more than welcome to stay in Casa Pierce-Lopez if that's what you want, but you don't have to worry about hurting my feelings if you'd prefer the alternative."

Christina took in a deep breath. "Well then could I…Can I stay with you?"

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** And thus ends another chapter. Thank you for reading and I hope everyone enjoys new Glee tomorrow! *Is excited*

In other news, I've started a set of single stories that all take place in this AU (called God Only Knows) to fill in the blanks of things I can't fit into this fic; e.g. their wedding, deciding to have a baby and that sort of stuff. So check that out :-) I am also open to suggestions/requests there.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **'ello, all. Sorry about the delay again. I'm just finding it harder to write out the chapters now. I think it's because of the new episodes. It's changing my perceptions of the characters. Anyway, as always I'd like to thank everybody who took the time to comment and also to those who are still reading this story…despite my now occasionally infrequent updates. Much love x

I hope you enjoy this chapter!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 23_

As it turned out, temporarily adopting a teenager was not as simple as Santana had inexplicably believed. The social worker, who Santana had already forgotten the name of, had allowed the Pierce-Lopez family only a few minutes of peace before she'd come bustling back into the hospital room with approximately two novels worth of paper that Santana was instructed to read and fill in where appropriate. Santana exchanged a sour look with Brittany but dutifully accepted weighty tome with almost no complaints at all. No outward complaints anyway. No point in making Christina feel any worse about it than she probably already did.

She quickly skimmed through the first few pages and let out a weary sigh. She needed background checks, proof of income, proof of residency, references… It was excessive to say the least.

Seemingly noticing her distress, the social worker gave one of her sardonic little smiles. "You don't think we just let anybody walk off with the children, do you?"

"I suppose not," replied Santana gruffly. That didn't mean she had to like it though. "Who do you need references from?"

"We need a character reference and a reference from somebody who knows you in a professional capacity," answered the social worker promptly. Santana shot a hopeful glance at Brittany. "Someone who _isn't_ a member of your family," she clarified.

"Fine," Santana grumbled.

"You could ask Rachel," Brittany suggested lightly.

"Not sure I'm in Rachel's good books right now," said Santana darkly. "Even if she does write it I can't be sure how flattering it would be."

"Grovel," said Brittany with a nod. "She'll do it if you tell her the reason."

Santana let out a short huff. "Fine. But if she forces me to go and see Wicked _again_ as punishment then you're coming with me."

"_Again_?" asked Christina with a puzzled look on her face.

Brittany laughed as Santana grimaced. "Oh yeah. This wouldn't be the first time Rachel has 'punished' Santana by making her go to one of her plays."

"We've seen Wicked about ten times," said Callie, idly playing with the bandage wielding teddy bear that Brittany had picked up in the gift shop.

"Which is ten times too many," said Santana, rising uncomfortably from her chair. "Is there somewhere I can go with like…a table to do this?"

* * *

After about ten minutes of glancing through the offending forms and papers in a well lit doctor's lounge, Santana unwillingly accepted that under no circumstance would she be finishing them at any point in the near future. Even with the use of the hospital fax machine to acquire the needed references it was going to take hours to fill in all of the details. So, with it still being the morning, she decided to allow Brittany and Callie off the hook. Callie was becoming more and more restless and it wasn't really fair to keep her trapped in this God-awful hospital with nothing to do for the rest of the day.

"I'll be back in a few hours," said Brittany, giving Santana a quick peck on the lips. "Call me if you need anything."

Santana smiled and nodded and then kissed Callie's forehead. "See you in a bit, sweetie."

"Okay, Mama," replied Callie dutifully. "We'll come back soon!"

"You'd better," said Santana, giving the girl a gentle shove in Brittany's direction. Callie giggled and scurried out of the room with Brittany in tow.

With a sigh, Santana picked up the pen she had been provided with and set to work. She actually kind of felt like she was back in work…except when she finally got out of this place instead of bringing home a pile of cashola, she was bringing home a troubled teen. It was funny how things turned out sometimes.

By the time the first page was complete, a variety of doctors and nurses had started coming in and out of the room. At first it was seriously distracting but Santana quickly learnt to ignore them and, with the exception of a nurse who offered her a cup of coffee, none of them seemed particularly interested in engaging her in conversation. She couldn't help but wonder if it was because they already knew what she was doing or that they just didn't care that some random woman had invaded their rather grubby looking room of rest. She didn't dwell on it for long though; page two was glaring at her commandingly and she didn't want to disappoint. Besides, the sooner she was done, the sooner she could leave.

Her phone call to Rachel was…not interesting, to say the least. And yes, Santana and family would indeed be attending their eleventh visitation to Broadway in a couple of months. _That_ would be something to look forward to. Oh well, Santana thought a little despondently, at least the letter would be on its way soon; unlike Santana, Rachel was not a prolific procrastinator.

She let out an annoyed sigh and dropped her head to the table for a moment. What was only supposed to be a favour to Sue had swiftly become something that Santana really didn't want it to be. How had her life come to this point exactly? It wasn't that she didn't want to help the kid, because she really did. She knew full well her own life would have been much easier if she'd had an adult to help guide her through rough patches instead of those self-centred douche bags she called 'parents'. But still…she couldn't help but feel like she just wasn't up to the job. Who the hell was she to convince a sixteen year old girl to leave her father? More importantly, what on earth had possessed her to offer up her own home as an alternative? Sure, she could just about handle Callie, but with Brittany gone so often it was something she'd just had to do. Not that she would trade time spent with her daughter for _anything_. Either way, Callie was a happy and healthy little girl. Christina had like…proper issues. Issues that Santana was ill-equipped to deal with.

She rolled her shoulders in an attempt to relieve some of the tension she could feel steadily building and pressed her lips together thoughtfully. Having said…or thought…that though, Santana wasn't exactly alone. She had Brittany. Poor, long-suffering Brittany who had dealt with Santana and her wildly unpredictable mood swings for more than twenty years. Surely between them they could look after one teenager for a few days? Plus, when she actually thought about it, Christina probably wouldn't need mothering. Just a roof over her head until her aunt came back into town.

Maybe.

Well, she thought, she hadn't done too badly so far…had she? Santana pondered this for a moment. Okay, so she'd had to reveal a little more information about herself than she would have liked, but as far as situations of this nature went, she was fairly sure she'd done okay. Not that she'd been in 'situations of this nature' before as such. If she had though, on a scale of one to Oprah, she was relatively confident that the scales weighed more in her favour than not. She'd got Christina to open up a bit anyway. That had to count for something.

Feeling a little more reassured, Santana turned her attention to the forms in front of her. _Family Background_. She groaned. This had better be frigging worth it.

She filled in inane question after question for approximately an hour and a half before being interrupted by the social worker. Or 'Monica Tyne' as Santana had heard Christina call her earlier.

Santana put down her pen and flexed her fingers, noting the dull ache that reminded her of exam time back in her days of being a student. She honestly couldn't remember the last time she'd written so much without the aid of a computer.

"Is there a problem?" Santana asked after a moment.

"Not at all," said Tyne, casting a brief glance at her watch. "Miss Rains and I are going to pay a visit to her home to retrieve some clothes followed by a short appointment at the police station."

"Oh," replied Santana. "Do you want me to come or something?"

"That won't be necessary," said Tyne, her voice steady and professional. "I just thought you should be informed."

Santana nodded. "Right. Well…I'll just stay here then."

Without so much as a goodbye, the woman turned on her heel and stalked from the room. Santana shook her head in annoyance. _Some people_.

* * *

It was starting to get dark outside by the time Santana was finishing off the forms. They would have been done a little earlier but after calling her boss for a reference, he'd insisted on a deeply unpleasant hour long conversation in which he expressed under no uncertain terms his dissatisfaction with her work for the last couple of weeks. Normally, she'd have argued with him, but the fact was that she _had_ been neglecting her real job. With everything that was going on, things just seemed to be getting away from her recently. She yawned and wrapped her free arm around her chest as the pressure caused a flare of pain in her injured ribs.

Oh well. It wasn't like her boss was going to do anything about a couple of weeks of bad work. She'd just read the reference he'd sent for her and they weren't the words of a man who was going to fire her.

She hadn't dared to read the reference from Rachel yet. There was only a fifty percent chance it would actually be in her favour so yeah…she'd left that to one side for the meanwhile. It hadn't helped that it appeared to be about three pages long. If Rachel had made a list of all the times Santana had shown herself unfit to look after a teenager then Santana would be forced to hunt her down and punch her in the face. Stupid hobbit.

For a moment, Santana entertained herself thinking about what punishment she would devise for Rachel if the novella she had sent wasn't flattering, but was sadly interrupted by a rap on the door. She knew it was a ridiculous thing to know, but she'd recognise that slightly tentative knocking anywhere.

She craned her head just in time to see Brittany take a step into the room, which was empty with the exception of a weary looking doctor nursing her cup of coffee. Santana smiled and beckoned her over.

"How's it going?" asked Brittany.

"Just one more question," replied Santana tiredly. She looked around. "Where's Callie?"

"With Christina," said Brittany. "I told her that she was going to stay with us for a while so she wanted to talk to her about what games she likes to play." Brittany frowned. "I hope she doesn't say Monopoly."

Suppressing a grin, Santana shook her head. "We don't even have Monopoly. I think you'll be safe."

And even if they did, under no circumstance was Santana letting Brittany anywhere near it. Not after Brittany's recurring nightmares about a giant Scottish terrier making an alliance with an equally large top hat and stomping around Lima destroying peoples' homes. There was only so many times that Santana could explain that top hats aren't sentient and that dogs cannot be bigger than houses.

"Good," said Brittany with a small pout. "That game's really boring anyway."

"Agreed," replied Santana. "What's the point if you don't have any real money at the end of it anyway?"

Brittany shrugged. "Candyland is better."

"Obviously," Santana agreed.

There was a short silence and Brittany furrowed her brows, seemingly gazing into Santana's eyes intently. Santana raised a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at her in question.

Without warning, Brittany dropped to her knees and wrapped her arms tightly around Santana's body, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Britt, what –"

But she was cut off by Brittany's lips pressing insistently against her own. Though the kiss only lasted for a few seconds, Santana found herself a little breathless when Brittany pulled away.

"What was that for?"

"Because I love you," said Brittany earnestly, not releasing Santana from the grip she held her in.

Santana felt warmth spread through her body and relaxed into Brittany's hold. "Of course you do. I'm hot stuff," she said with a smirk.

"And because you looked like you needed it," Brittany added, raising one of her arms to cup Santana's cheek gently. Her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into Brittany's hand.

"It has been kind of a long day," she admitted.

"I know, honey," said Brittany, kissing Santana once more before releasing her hold and rising back to her feet. "So," she said, brushing nonexistent dirt from her white jeans, "How much longer?"

Santana held up a finger and turned back to paper in front of her. She scribbled a quick answer to the last question and then signed the bottom with a flourish.

"Done," she said proudly.

"Yay!" said Brittany happily. "Got everything?"

Santana nodded and then paused. "Well, I should probably check the reference from Berry first."

"Hurry up then," Brittany whined.

A quiet laugh escaped Santana's lips and she picked up the offending objects and turned them over. "Seriously, there is just no need for her to ramble this much," she commented idly before beginning to skim through Rachel's overly verbose miniature essay.

The further she read, the more her frown deepened. She turned the page and swallowed against an uncomfortable and inexplicable lump in her throat.

"What's wrong?" said Brittany anxiously when Santana finally put down the letter. "Is it bad?"

"Erm," answered Santana. She cleared her throat. "No, actually."

"No?" asked Brittany, confusion written all over her face.

"No," Santana repeated. "It's really…um…" She hung her head. "I think I owe Rachel an apology."

"What does it say?" said Brittany unblinkingly.

Santana shrugged. "Just some stuff about me, you and Callie. And something about an 'inspirational tale of overcoming adversity'." She paused. "She called me a good person."

This time it was Brittany who laughed. "You are a good person."

Making a non-committal noise in response, Santana folded the letter in half. "Still, she didn't have to say all that."

"You can make it up to her later," said Brittany, amusement in her voice obvious. "I take it we're going to the theatre when we get home?"

* * *

It took another hour for all the paper work or whatever it was to get done. Brittany wasn't quite sure what exactly was going on with it all, but she trusted Santana and the social worker to make sure it was all present and correct so they could go home as soon as possible. She was sat in waiting room again with Callie and Christina, and the teenager seemed to be growing more anxious with every passing minute.

Finally, Santana wandered into sight, hands empty and a relieved look on her face. Brittany smiled and waved to catch her attention.

"All done?" Brittany asked hopefully.

"For now," said Santana. She ran her hands through her hair and smiled briefly at Christina.

"Can we go home then, Mama?" said Callie, pushing herself forward from Brittany's lap and onto her own short legs.

"Sure can," replied Santana.

Brittany let out a sigh of relief and rose to her feet. She let an innocent smile cross her face and captured Santana's gaze. "We can go to McDonald's for dinner?" Santana opened her mouth to reply in the negative. "You know, to make up for all the time we've been here," Brittany forestalled her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Callie let out a silent giggle. "All right," Santana conceded.

"Yay!" said Callie happily. She bounded forward and grasped Christina's hand, who had thus far remained silent. "Do you like McDonald's?"

"Sure," replied Christina with a shrug, keeping her eyes downcast.

Satisfied, Brittany rounded up her family and ushered them all to the car.

* * *

In the restaurant, or whatever it was (Santana had told her off for calling it that), Christina told the group what she'd been doing for most of the day with the social worker. She seemed less than impressed when she told them she'd been taken to the police station, but when Santana probed for more information she clammed up completely and refused to answer anymore questions. Except the 'do you want fries with that' at least, which she answered in the affirmative.

The rest of the evening passed with horrible awkwardness. By the time they got back to the house, Christina wasn't speaking unless spoken to and Santana kept nodding off on the couch and then jerking awake. Brittany kept up her smiles and idle chatter with Callie, but even she was beginning to feel the strain.

"Road Runner always gets away," said Callie, her eyes glued to the TV screen. "Why doesn't he chase somebody else?"

Brittany frowned. Callie made a fair point. "I don't know," she replied. She turned to Santana. "Why doesn't Wile E Coyote just buy food?"

"I don't think he carries around wads of the local currency," said Santana unenthusiastically.

"Well, that doesn't make sense," Brittany informed her. "If he has no money then why do people from the Acme Corporation keep sending him explosives and anvils?"

"Erm…" began Santana. She pulled a face. "A wizard did it?"

For a moment, Brittany pondered this. She was pretty sure she'd never seen a wizard in this programme before. But Callie's attention had already drifted and Christina was staring at her like she was insane or something, so she nodded. "Okay."

They watched cartoons until it was time for Callie to go to bed. Mainly to fill the tense silence that had fallen over the room.

"Um…" said Christina, when Brittany scooped up the child in her arms. "I think I'll go to bed too…if that's okay?"

"You can do what you want," said Santana, sounding a little surprised.

Christina looked a little dubious but nodded and made as quick an exit as she was able to.

"Well that was sufficiently awkward," said Santana softly. Brittany couldn't help but agree.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Bonjourno, my lovelies. Okay, so this chapter was a little shorter than they usually are, but it's just because I have a plan for the next one and I didn't want to start it at the end of this. Also, if anybody is interested, I now have an official plan of action from now to the end of the fic. It took me about a week but I have a step by step chapter rundown, which should mean faster updates.

New chapter should be up soon because I'm almost halfway done with almost all of it… Thank you for reading :-)

In other thoughts, my playcount of Back to Black is rounding off an even thirty right now. How awesome is Naya?


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Hello, all. Okay, well first of all I think a congratulations to Naya and Heather are in order for being officially (well…as official as that particular website is) the hottest and second hottest women in the world as voted by the interwebs at large. Like there was ever any doubt. Secondly, I would obviously like to thank everybody who is still reading and reviewing! I love you guys like you wouldn't believe.

Anyway, I wanted to try something a little different in this chapter and have a few scenes from the perspective of a different character.

Hope you enjoy :-)

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 24_

When Christina had accepted, on that fateful day, Santana Lopez's offer of food and shelter, she had some very specific ideas about what living the Pierce-Lopez household, however briefly, would be like. In fact, it had actually come up once in a conversation with her fellow Cheerios. When Apple had stipulated that Santana Lopez would undoubtedly rule her home with an iron fist, absolutely nobody disagreed. It was obvious. That woman was very image of a Machiavellian dictator.

After meeting Brittany that day in the library, their assertions could only be reinforced. She seemed kind and almost childlike. Innocent, you might say. There was absolutely no way that sweet Brittany _wouldn't_ be completely under the thumb.

That wasn't to say that their relationship didn't work on some level. Even Apple had conceded that as far couples went, lesbian or otherwise, Brittany and Santana Pierce-Lopez seemed pretty solid. They appeared happy at the very least.

But, that didn't stop them from speculating how awful it would be to have a spouse like Santana. She was volatile, controlling and demanding. Christina really couldn't remember a Cheerios practice in which she hadn't made one of the girls cry. She was a great coach and all, maybe even better than Sue, but as a person Christina just wasn't so sure.

As she had sat in that hospital room, miserably wishing herself into non-existence, she couldn't help but think about what fate had in store for her. Obviously, it was going to be better than what she'd come from…probably. She didn't really want to think about how the last few days had gone for her, but she knew the lack of drunken physical violence could only improve her quality of living. Unfortunately, that didn't mean that moving in with her unrelenting cheerleading coach was going to be some kind of fun holiday until her aunt got back into town. Assuming her aunt would be willing to take her in. Christina really really hoped she would.

But anyway, Christina had a very good idea what life with the Lopez's was going to be like. Clearly, some kind of army base camp.

Satan herself would probably be up at the crack of dawn, rounding up her small family and directing them to the kitchen or to whatever morning activities she had planned. Brittany would wear that dopey smile she sometimes had on her face and quietly follow her wife's instructions to the letter while young Callie would bounce around thinking it was some kind of delightful game. Everything would be happy…unless someone did something to rouse the beast and cause Santana to kick off. The offender, whether they be Brittany or Callie, would apologise profusely and then the family would get on with their day.

After a full days work, Santana would come home and Brittany, like a good housewife, would have dinner ready and waiting for her on the table. The family would talk about their day and then maybe migrate to the living room where Santana would have first choice of what they watched on TV.

Christina guessed it would be an improvement on her life, but it was most certainly _not_ something she was looking forward to.

As it turned out, she was wrong on pretty much every count.

She probably should have realised something was off about her assumptions when she'd first entered the Pierce-Lopez household to discover her coach literally tied to a chair while her wife and child flounced around the room dressed like pirates. In her defence, she thought, she had been kind of distracted at the time. Her second clue, however, should probably have hit home last night when Brittany had seamlessly manipulated Santana into going to McDonalds, despite her obvious reluctance. But, as with the night before, she'd been too busy mourning the loss of life as she knew it to really pay attention.

It wasn't until the next evening that she really began to comprehend how wrong she'd been. Up until that point she'd been completely consumed with her own internal dialogue and soaking in the awkwardness of living with a teacher to really consider the new information she had gathered. Information, that she sadly couldn't share with her friends, even though she knew Charlotte would be delighted by the new developments. Her ditzy friend had something of a bizarre interest in their coach's personal life. In fact, so did Apple now that she thought about it. It wasn't that she didn't want to tell her friends about her father, it was more that…she _really_ didn't want to tell her friends about her father. She'd even asked Brittany to drop her off a block away from school so she wasn't seen pulling into school with them.

Anyway, it was absolutely clear after only a day that Santana was far from being in charge of her family. Despite her sometimes blank gaze and sweet, unassuming words, it was fairly obvious that Brittany had Santana wrapped right around her little finger. What Brittany wanted, whether it was a certain type of food or a choice of movie, Brittany got without question. Apart from when there was question, and she would simply bat her eyelashes or draw her face into an upset pout that seemed to wear Lopez down in mere seconds.

As soon as they escaped school after Cheerios practice and crossed the threshold of the homestead, it was like Coach Lopez suddenly wasn't Coach Lopez anymore. It was a truly bizarre transformation that Christina was struggling to wrap her head around. She'd even heard Lopez calmly explain to her wife and child that there were no such thing as ghosts after a peculiar incident involving a hairbrush that had apparently moved of its own accord. Twice.

She just didn't understand.

* * *

In the quiet of her office…or Sue's office…Santana let out a deep sigh and tried to concentrate on her work.

It was Day Two of Operation Christina, and she was at the end of her tether. It wasn't that things were going badly, as such; it was just that Christina still wasn't really talking to them. She felt like she should be doing more, she just didn't know what she should be doing more of.

There was a loud knock on the door, rousing Santana from her rather bleak musings. She sat up straighter in Sue's chair before telling whoever it was to come in, in the most commanding voice she could muster. It was almost a relief when Mr. Schuester appeared.

"Hey," she said with a weak smile.

"Santana," said Will by way of greeting, seating himself opposite her. "How are things?"

"Oh you know," said Santana with an airy wave of her hand. "All right. How about you? Miss. P keeping you on your toes?"

Will eyes crinkled with happiness and he grinned at her. "Everything's great."

Santana nodded and then raised an eyebrow. It wasn't that she didn't like a break now and again, but she had a lot to do. She was desperately trying to catch up on the work she'd been neglecting because she really couldn't be bothered being on the end of another stern lecture from her boss. Once was more than enough.

"Anyway," said Will, sensing her desire to make this conversation a quick one, "I was wondering if you wanted to come back to Glee Club for a visit?"

"Erm…"

"You could bring Brittany and Callie along with you," said Mr. Schue quickly. "I just thought it might be a nice break from the Cheerios for you."

Santana wasn't buying that for a second. "Did you really?" she said dryly. "Always with my best interests at heart, hmm?"

"You did say it was the best part of your day once upon a time," Will pointed out with an innocent smile.

"I don't remember that," Santana lied.

"Come on, Santana," said Mr. Schue. "The kids have been working so hard. It would be nice if any other adult showed some kind of appreciation for what they're doing."

Santana narrowed her eyes at him. "When?"

"Tomorrow?" said Schue hopefully

With a sigh, Santana nodded. "Fine. But only because Brittany will want to go."

"Excellent!" said Will, looking somewhat smug. "So how is Brittany?"

* * *

She was sat in the library when her three friends found her.

"Hey, Christina," said Charlotte softly.

Christina dragged her gaze away from the window and nodded at her fellow Cheerios. Usually, she'd have waited for them outside Dianne's class, but she couldn't be bothered today.

"So," said Apple, sitting down opposite Christina. "How are things, oh Gloomy One?"

Christina rolled her eyes. "I'm just peachy. How are you, Kim Jong Il?"

"Very funny," said Apple tonelessly. She flicked a non-existent fleck of dirt from her Cheerios uniform. "So," she then said, "There are some funny rumours floating around."

"Are there really?" said Christina, trying to sound disinterested as her stomach began to clench painfully.

"They're about you," said Charlotte, as though that hadn't been clear.

"Uh huh," replied Christina. "And where exactly did you hear these so-called 'rumours'."

"I overheard some people," said Julia vaguely. Her eyes were firmly on her iPhone as she spoke. "People say all kinds of stuff when they think you're not listening."

"Well I wouldn't believe everything you hear," snapped Christina. She turned her attention back to light rain outside.

"You're not even going to ask what the rumours were?" said Apple rather grimly. Their eyes met across the table and Christina realised straight away that Dianne knew full well that whatever it was she'd heard was true. Christina gulped.

"Don't know, don't care," she replied, her voice wavering ever so slightly.

Apple pressed the tips of her fingers together and Christina held her gaze unflinchingly. "As your friend," she said without feeling, "I think you should know that word on the grapevine is that you came to school this morning with Coach Lopez."

The colour drained from Christina's face as she took in the three inquisitive looks directed at her. She forced herself to shrug her shoulders. "Well I think the grapevine needs to check its facts," she said, in what she thought was a convincing voice.

There was a short silence. Then Charlotte put her hand on Christina's arm. "You don't have to lie to us," she said with a small smile. Christina looked away.

"Okay," said Apple after a moment. "I'm going to ask you something now and I need you to tell the truth."

Christina sighed but nodded. As much as she'd like to, obviously this wasn't staying as secret as she hoped it would.

"Are you, or are you not, having an affair with Coach Lopez?" asked Dianne, her face stony.

Christina felt her mouth fall open in shock. "Oh my God. Are you fucking serious?"

Apple raised an eyebrow while Charlotte looked down at her hands, seeming deeply puzzled. "Serious as a heart attack," said Apple.

"Have you had a stroke or something?" Christina raged. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"You don't deny it then?" asked Apple, seeming faintly disgusted.

"Um, yes I do!" Christina yelled, earning herself an angry shush from the librarian lurking somewhere behind a bookcase. "Have you lost your mind? Just…what the hell, Dianne!"

"You aren't giving me a lot to work with here, Christina," replied Apple, sounding maddeningly calm.

Christina clenched her teeth together angrily and fought back the urge to punch Apple square in the face. "So is this what you all think then?" she hissed, swivelling her gaze to her other friends.

"Lopez is old," said Charlotte as she shook her head. "And a girl." Julia looked rather like a deer caught in headlights and didn't respond.

"All right then," said Christina, as rage coursed through her veins. "You really want to know?" Apple nodded imperiously. "All fucking right then. My dad lost his shit, beat the crap out of me and Lopez offered to let me stay with her until my aunt comes back into town so I can go and live with her instead."

A stunned silence followed this declaration and Christina felt her patience snap. She stood up, knocking her chair to the floor with a loud clatter and stormed away.

* * *

Will was just standing up to leave when there was a second knock on the door to Santana's office. She rolled her eyes. "How anybody gets anything done in this place with people knocking on the door every five minutes is beyond me," she said. Will shot her a rather hurt look that she ignored. "Come in!"

She was not expecting Christina to wander in with her head lowered miserably. Schue and Santana exchanged a worried glance.

"I'll be going then," said Will after a moment of silence. Santana didn't acknowledge him as he left the room.

"Um…hey?" said Santana as Christina stood awkwardly looking at every point in the room but at her.

"Hi," replied Christina unhappily. Santana frowned.

"What's wrong?" she asked, allowing some of her concern to leak into her voice. "Are you okay?"

Christina shrugged mutely and wrapped her arms around herself. "Can I hang out in here for a while? Please?"

It took quite a bit of effort for Santana to keep the scowl off her face. "Okay. Just…keep it down," she said, finally turning her attention back to her computer screen. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Christina nod to herself and sit down on the small couch Sue had inexplicably replaced one of her tables with.

Santana pursed her lips and resumed her search of potential jobs for Rachel. She might not be able to force herself to actually say the words 'thank you', but she could make up for it by putting in extra effort as her agent.

She supposed she should have been grateful for the ten whole minutes of peace she had before being interrupted for what felt like the millionth today.

"Come in," she groaned, at a tentative knock on the door.

When one of her Cheerios poked her head around the door, Santana held back a sigh and moved her gaze to Christina.

"You have five minutes, carrot top," said Santana with a displeased shake of her head. "Make it fast."

The girl smiled widely at her and moved to sit beside Christina on the couch. Santana really tried not to listen, but it was kind of hard when they were in such an enclosed space.

"What do you want, Charlotte?" said Christina coldly. _Ah, so that was her name_.

"I just wanted to know if you were okay," replied Charlotte quietly. Christina simply huffed in response. "You could have told me, you know."

"Yeah well…" said Christina. "I didn't want too, all right?"

"Okay," said Charlotte. "I just…I'm sorry I couldn't help you."

Santana watched the two girls surreptitiously while they sorted out their differences and couldn't help but compare them to her and Brittany. The similarities were remarkable...with less sexual tension of course. She was very hopeful that Pippi Longstocking wouldn't try to make Christina feel better in the same way that Brittany used to make her feel better. They were far too young for that. Santana was convinced that she had never looked that young. No way.

"…and I'm sorry that Dianne was being so mean to you," Charlotte was saying. "I think it's her time of the month."

Christina made a small noise of disapproval. "What's her excuse for the other three weeks then?"

Confusion stole across Charlotte's face and Santana rolled her eyes. "Maybe she…um…" Charlotte trailed off. "Anyway, I don't think anyone really believes that you're having an affair with Coach Lopez."

"Wait," said Santana, her head snapping up in shock. "What did you just say?"

The two girls looked at her in mortification.

"_Please_ tell me you're joking," said Santana, knowing they weren't.

"Um…"

Santana clamped her hand to her forehead. "Oh God…"

"Erm…"

"You need to go and put a stop to that rumour like…_right now_," said Santana, feeling a little sick.

Christina nodded unhappily. "Sorry," she said. "I didn't mean for–"

"Yeah, yeah," Santana interrupted, waving her hand irritably. "You just need to make sure it stops." The two girls simply stared at her. "NOW!"

The reaction was instantaneous. Both girls leapt to their feet, almost knocking each other over and raced for the door, which they slammed with an almighty bang. Santana brought her fingers to her temples and groaned. If she got fired or hauled to jail over this she was going to be _so annoyed_.

* * *

It had been a long day, but between them, Christina and Charlotte had managed to stop the tide of rumours surrounding her and Coach Lopez. Thank God. The more she'd thought about it, the worse it became.

With a sigh, she leaned back into the car seat and let her mind wander. As amusing as she was beginning to find them, Christina didn't really feel like listening to the rather cheerful conversation Satan and Brittany were having at the front of the car about why everyone assumes that Humpty Dumpty is an egg when it never actually says so in the nursery rhyme. Why would they even care?

Droplets of rain cried down the window and Christina followed the tracks they made until they vanished out of sight. She was kind of glad the weather had taken a turn for the worse; it reflected her mood. She hated being unhappy on a sunny day.

Reluctantly, she dragged her attention back to the people in the car.

"No, really!" Callie was saying desperately. "The ghost is back. It moved Pudsey." Pudsey was the name Callie had given the teddy bear she'd bought at the hospital.

"It did, Santana," said Brittany calmly.

"For the fifth time, there are no such things as ghosts," replied Santana. Christina couldn't see her face but she was pretty sure that the older woman was rolling her eyes right now. "It must have been the wind. Or you just forgot where it was, which is a lot more likely."

Callie looked like she was on the verge of an epic temper tantrum, but Santana turned around and gave the girl a stern look. "Sweetie, there are no ghosts in our house. I promise."

"You might be wrong though," Callie pointed out.

Santana let out a noise of disbelief. "I am never wrong."

"Actually–"

"Oh don't even, Brittany! I'm tired of this conversation," Santana interrupted. "Look, if you want, when we get home I'll go and check all the rooms for signs of ghosts."

In the car mirror, Christina saw Brittany shoot Santana a rather dark look before turning her attention back to driving.

"Ghosts are invisible though," Callie muttered mutinously under her breath before also turning to look out the window. Christina almost laughed when Santana began to glance rather apprehensively between her wife and child. Obviously somebody was in the doghouse for not pandering to these ghost whims.

* * *

The first rumble of thunder hit at some time during dinner. Santana's eyes flickered only briefly to the window before she focused her attention onto Callie who had jumped about a foot in the air.

"Are you okay, sweetie?" she asked gently.

Callie gripped her fork tightly and nodded her head unconvincingly. Like Brittany, the girl was not a huge fan of storms. Santana smiled encouragingly at her before switching her gaze to her wife, who looked both amused and a little unnerved. Oh well, at least Christina seemed unworried. Maybe they could team up to man the fort.

By the time they'd finished eating and were sat comfortably in the living room, the storm was in full swing. Rain pounded heavily against the window panes and not even drawing the curtains seemed to block out the sound. In an effort to calm Callie down, Santana put the volume of Cinderella up louder than she'd usually allow.

"This is the ghosts fault," Callie had mumbled at one point. Santana rolled her eyes but said nothing; Brittany was already mad at her and she didn't want to make it worse.

Surprisingly, Christina had agreed to stay downstairs to watch the film with them, even though it was clear to Santana that simply being in their presence put her on edge. She wasn't quite sure why; she hadn't given the teenager a reason to feel nervous. Or so she thought anyway.

The Fairy Godmother appeared on screen and Callie began to positively bounce with excitement. It didn't seem to matter how many times she watched the same film, she was always amazed at the exact right times. Just like Brittany. Santana glanced sideways to where her wife sat on the other side of the couch and then back to her own hands, folded together on her lap. She huffed quietly to herself and tried to focus her attention back on the film.

A particularly bright flash of lightning struck and Santana looked around in alarm as the electricity wavered, switching off the TV and knocking out lights for a moment. Callie made a noise of distress in the darkness.

"It's okay, Cal," said Brittany, her own eyes wide and slightly fearful.

The lights flickered again and Callie squealed and launched herself into Brittany's arms.

"It's just the storm!" Santana shouted over a particularly loud rumble of thunder.

"That's what they always say and that's when the ghost strikes," argued Brittany, wrapping her arms tightly around Callie. Santana pursed her lips and shook her head. She wasn't having this conversation _again_.

"Well what do you want me to do then, Brittany? I don't think there are any Ghostbusters lurking around the general Lima area," said Santana, trying to keep her voice reasonable.

Of course, that would be when the lights flickered again, only this time plunging the whole street into total darkness. Callie cried out in fear and even Santana inhaled sharply. Over the sound of the wind and pelting rain, Santana heard Christina mutter something under her breath and couldn't help but agree. This really was just _fan-frigging-tastic_.

"Do you have any flashlights?" asked Christina, the surprising voice of reason.

Santana thought for a moment and rose gingerly to her feet. "I don't know. This isn't my house. I'll go and look."

"Be careful," said Brittany urgently. Santana couldn't see where Brittany was exactly, but she rolled her eyes in her general direction.

"Yeah that's fine. You just stay where you are," said Santana with annoyance. "Don't get up."

"I wasn't going to," replied Brittany innocently.

With a huff, Santana stretched out her arms and began to feel her way around the room. Thankfully, a timely crash of lightning let her know she was moving in the right direction. As she reached the door she paused. "Where do people keep flashlights these days?" she asked thoughtfully.

"Kitchen?" suggested Christina from somewhere at her left.

Santana nodded before rolling her eyes again; nobody could see her nodding. "Right," she said instead, wandering out into the hall.

Holding out her arms, Santana's fingertips brushed the walls on either side of her as she made her way to the kitchen. It took her a few minutes of stumbling around painfully but she eventually found a small flashlight in one of the drawers. She let out a tense breath and switched it on. The light was a little dull, but it was enough to get her back to the other room without further injury.

"This was the only one I could find," she said, pointing the light in Brittany's direction. Brittany raised a hand to shield her eyes and Santana quickly lowered her arm. "Sorry."

"What are we gonna do?" said Callie pitifully. Her face was buried in Brittany's neck and even in the dim light Santana could see she was shaking. Lightning tore the sky and Callie let out a frightened sob that pulled violently at Santana's heartstrings. Within seconds, she was sat as close to Brittany as possible with a comforting hand resting on Callie's back.

"Don't worry, sweetie," she said soothingly. "Everything is going to be okay."

There was a loud crash somewhere upstairs and Santana almost jumped. _Spoke too soon_.

"What was _that_?" said Brittany, her voice hesitant.

"Something must have just fallen over," replied Santana firmly.

"What made it fall over though?" asked Christina. Santana had almost forgotten she was in the room.

"Oh God. Not you too," said Santana despairingly. "It was just the wind."

"But what if it wasn't," said Brittany, tightening her hold around Callie.

Santana pursed her lips. Right. _Fine then_. "Okay," she said, standing up once more. "I'll go and look."

"Don't go, Mama!" said Callie, briefly dragging her head away from Brittany's shoulder to look at her fearfully. "The ghost might get you."

With a fond smile that melted away a significant amount of her annoyance, Santana leaned over and kissed Callie's forehead. "I'll be fine, Callie. Don't worry about me."

"But you'll be on your own," Callie mumbled sadly, a stray tear running down her cheek.

"I'm going to–"

"I'll come," Christina interrupted.

Santana looked over at Christina with interest.

"You'll make sure nothing bad happens?" said Callie, squinting at Christina with suspicious eyes.

"Totally," said Christina easily. "Didn't I tell you? I hunt ghosts sometimes when I'm not in school."

"Really?" asked Callie, her eyes widening comically.

"Ya huh," replied Christina with a confident nod. "So anything that's up there is no match for me. Don't worry. I'll protect Mama Lopez for you."

Santana wiped the amused grin from her face as three sets of eyes swivelled to look at her. "Um…yeah," she said. "Me and Christina here…a force to be reckoned with."

* * *

And so Christina found herself traipsing up the stairs in the dark with Santana. She wasn't sure what had possessed her to speak up when she had…well, she kind of did; it was because something about Callie crying made her head hurt. Still, this whole sequence of events had been very surreal so far.

"Thanks," Lopez muttered as they reached the top of the stairs. "Callie was on the verge of hysteria."

"'S'okay," replied Christina. It was the least she could do really.

"Right," said Santana, flashing the light around. "Which room do you think?"

There was a muted smashing sound up ahead and the two looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

"Probably that one," said Christina, pointing unnecessarily to where the noise had come from.

"Yes, thank you," said Lopez sarcastically. An unwilling grin forced its way across Christina's face as she gestured for Santana to go ahead of her.

Their tread was light as they made their way to Callie's bedroom; Christina wasn't sure why, but she couldn't seem to stop herself. Maybe it was the eerie flickering of shadows as Santana cast the light around. Or maybe the mysterious crashes were starting to put her on edge too. Either way, she couldn't quell the niggling feel of foreboding as they approached their destination.

Santana cautiously pushed the door open and took a step inside. If Christina didn't know any better, she'd say that the woman faltered a little before actually crossing the threshold. Goosebumps prickled along Christina's arms and she frowned.

"Why is it so cold in here?" she asked, following the spotlight with her eyes.

"I have a vague idea," replied Santana dryly, taking in a fallen stack of DVD's next to the connecting bathroom door.

She strolled forward and pushed her way into the bathroom; Christina followed close behind her so as not to get left in the dark. She let out a small chuckle at Santana's dramatic sigh upon entrance.

"Do you have your Proton Pack on hand?" asked Santana.

Christina dragged her eyes away from the large open window and frowned in confusion. "My what?"

"Um…nothing. Never mind."

Santana handed Christina the flashlight and took a step forward, getting instantly sprayed with rain water which was soaking the tiny bathroom. She took hold of the window and pushed it closed, instantly blocking out some of the deafening wind.

"Well, I think that was a job well done," said Santana, rubbing her hands together. She glanced around at the littered bottles of cosmetics and shampoo on the floor and pulled a face. "Mostly."

"You're a real life Harry Potter," Christina said in agreement.

Santana frowned at her and Christina felt her heart speed up as the feeling she'd said something horribly wrong hit her. She opened her mouth to take it back but Lopez beat her to it. "No way," she said with a shake of her head. "Harry Potter had all the style of Justin Bieber during his bag-lady phase. I think of myself as more of a Catwoman."

Christina relaxed a little but said nothing. She wasn't sure if she'd be able to talk even if she'd wanted to. Images sped through her head and she tried desperately to push them back. Lopez wasn't going to touch her. Rationally she knew that.

"Right," said Santana after a moment. "Back down?"

It should have been obvious what was going to happen, but somehow it just didn't occur to Christina. Santana took a step forward in the dark and yelped in surprise as her foot landed directly on a round can of deodorant. Christina's eyes widened as the woman tripped backwards, grasping frantically at the sink to save herself. She hit the floor with a crash and sent bottles flying.

"Ow! Stupid stuff everywhere!" Lopez cried out in despair. "_Ow_!"

Amusement tugged at the corner of Christina's lips but she forced it down. "Are you okay?"

"No I am _not_ okay!" Santana whined. She leaned back against the bath, moaned pitifully and raised a hand to brush her hair out of her face. A small laugh escaped Christina's lips and she crammed her hand into her mouth. "Oh, you think this is funny, do you?"

"No," replied Christina a little too quickly. "Well…not much anyway." She laughed again before closing her mouth firmly.

Santana's lip quirked upwards and she made a noise of disbelief. "Whatever," she said. Christina reached over with her free hand and pulled Santana to her feet. "Come on," she then said, shoving Christina lightly.

When the two re-entered the living room, Brittany and Callie appeared not to have moved.

"We have returned," Santana announced with a flourish.

"What was it?" asked Brittany, her hand methodically rubbing soothing circles on Callie's back.

Christina opened her mouth to answer but Lopez cut her off. "You were right, Britt. It was a ghost. But we got rid of it."

"Really?" asked Callie hopefully.

There was a pause. "Yeah," replied Christina as convincingly as she could.

Callie emitted a delighted squeal and Brittany smiled, her eyes shining even in the darkness. "My heroes," said Brittany, gesturing for the two to sit on the couch.

Behind her back, Santana held up a hand and Christina gave her a quick high five.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **See, I told you I'd update soon. So, as I'm sure you noticed, in this chapter I kept alternating between Santana and Christina's point of view. I feel that I may have done so a little too much, so if you could let me know if it gets too confusing or if it's okay, I'd be much obliged. Will make a note not to do it again if it's annoying or whatnot.

Thanks for reading :-)

ETA: Apparently we don't call torches a 'torch' in America. Have changed them all to flashlights :p Sorry for the confusion! Thanks for pointing it out, kempokarate12!


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Hey howdy hey and all that jazz. I know…I've been awful. I'm just not going to promise anything anymore because I obviously can't be trusted to keep them. If it helps, this chapter is about the length of two normal ones so it's almost like I've updated twice today. Me excuse is that I've been massively busy. Been to weddings on the opposite side of the country, birthdays (one of which was my own), work (ew), and then River Song literally broke my mind. Anyone who watches Doctor Who will understand about that last one.

Anyway, I know it's been a while since I updated and I know I have an excessive number of original characters. So, I thought I'd do a quick recap of who everyone is just to avoid any confusion.

_Christina_: I'm sure everyone remembers who this is! But just in case, Christina is our current foster kid temporarily living with Brittany and Santana.

_Charlotte_: Cheerleader extraordinaire (_ginger_ though…) and the nicer of Cheerios. Currently Christina's only friend.

_Dianne Apple_: Or is that Grapefruit? I forget. The captain of the Cheerios. A little pre-pregnancy-Quinn-esque.

_Julia_: The fourth Cheerio; isn't interested in anything unless she read it on her iPhone.

_Hazel_: A member of Glee Club who confessed her love of a girl (Jessica; also a Glee Club member) and came out to Santana (appeared in Ch16).

Well, I think that's it off the top of my head. I've talked far too much now, so I'm just gonna say thank you so much to everybody who is reading and to the people who reviewed the last chapter! I would kiss each and every one of you if I could. Hope you enjoy this one.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 25_

It was late when Christina pulled herself out of bed. So late that it was, in fact, early. Thankfully, the storm had ceased some hours ago and Callie had finally been persuaded to go to bed at a time that Christina suspected was much past her bedtime. But more importantly, the power had returned. It wasn't that she didn't feel safe at the Pierce-Lopez house, and as she'd proved, there was nothing lurking around upstairs, it had just become a little tiresome as the night had worn on.

To make up for the lack of light, Santana had found a couple of candles in the kitchen and had spent most of the night reading aloud from Callie's book collection. It was presumably to keep Callie's mind (and she suspected maybe Brittany's too) off the storm. It was, as had the majority of her day, been deeply surreal. When she thought back on it, she wasn't even sure it had actually happened. Although, as time had worn on, she'd found herself oddly engrossed 'The Bed and Breakfast Star'.

She crept out into the hall and began a quiet descent down the stairs; she didn't want to wake up her coach for a second time. That had just been embarrassing…probably for them more than her, when she thought on it. As it turned out, she needn't have worried, because Santana and Brittany were still sat on the exact couch they'd been on before she'd gone to bed. Except they were significantly closer this time. Lopez was pretty much sat on her wife's lap with her head resting on her shoulder. Feeling a little awkward, Christina moved to return to her room, but then she heard her name and stopped unwillingly in her tracks.

"I think," Lopez said hesitantly, "I think she's doing okay. Better than I would be anyway."

"Well she's smarter than you," replied Brittany.

"Thank you," said Santana sarcastically. "It's good to know I have the loving support of my wife in times of crisis."

At this, Brittany chuckled quietly and Christina sat herself down on the stairs. If she was going to eavesdrop then she might as well be comfortable. The room was still cast only in candle light so Christina was confident that even if either woman glanced her way, they wouldn't see her on the dark stairway.

"I didn't know supporting you meant I had to lie," said Brittany innocently. Christina could hear the teasing tone in her voice.

With a small sigh, Santana lifted her head and kissed Brittany's jaw. "Really though," said Lopez, her voice serious. "What do you…Am I…Do you think she's gonna be okay?"

From her position on the stairs, Christina felt a sudden, sharp twist of fondness for her abrasive cheerleading coach. She just sounded so _worried_…about her. Her. Christina Rains, who had brought nothing but trouble and disruption to her life. The girl whose own father couldn't care less about her. She blinked back tears and forced her attention back outwards; they were still talking.

"Not right away," Brittany said sadly, "But she'll get there."

Santana nodded absently and rested her head back on Brittany's shoulder. Brittany took her arm and began to draw mindless patterns on the crook of her elbow. It looked strangely intimate.

"I think Callie likes having her around," Lopez mused after a moment. "Like a sister."

"Mm. Something to think about for the future maybe," replied Brittany in an offhand voice. A look of mute horror crossed Santana's face and Christina had to press her lips firmly together to stop herself from laughing.

"Um…right," said Santana nervously. "Did I mention we're invited to go to Glee Club tomorrow?" It was an embarrassingly obvious ploy to change the subject, but Brittany didn't seem to mind much. She smiled happily and shook her head.

"Really? Are you going to sing?" she asked.

"Maybe," said Santana evasively. "Do you want me too?"

"Yeah," she replied. "Will you sing _to_ me?"

"I'd rather sing _with_ you," said Santana with a small smile.

Brittany nodded with a rather dazed look on her face. "Like the time we sang 'Me Against the Music' and I was Britney and you were Madonna?"

"Not quite," said Santana, grinning. "I'm not sure that would be appropriate in front of students. Not that that ever stopped Holly Holiday."

"Mr Schue would probably have an aneurysm," Brittany replied in agreement.

At this conversation, Christina pulled a face. Glee Club was super lame and she wanted nothing to do with it. And Mr Schue was kind of tool and she didn't like him like…at all.

"I'm sure we can find something that has less…provocative dancing," said Santana, though she didn't much sound like she was a fan of that idea. "Although you know how much I love your provocative dancing." Christina shivered a little in disgust. Ew. _Adults_.

Brittany grinned in delight. "We can save that for later." _Oh, God. Go away, mental image._

"You always have the best ideas," said Santana, sounding genuinely mystified. "Unless they're ones that result in my personal discomfort anyway," she added.

"You're so fussy sometimes," said Brittany, and Christina couldn't quite tell if she was joking or not. "And speaking of your personal discomfort, how are you feeling?"

There was a sudden shift in mood and Christina furrowed her brows.

"You mean my–"

"Yeah."

Santana shrugged as well as she was able in her current position. "It still hurts. Not a lot I can do about it though. Painkillers are useless."

"And what about the–"

"Not had any since I started taking the sleeping pills," Santana interrupted. Christina felt suddenly guilty; this was obviously not a conversation she should be listening to. "Thank, God."

"Yeah," said Brittany as Santana seemed to lean further into her on the couch.

"Maybe it's just a coincidence I stopped having them after I started taking the pills," said Santana hopefully. Brittany shot her a sad smile and Lopez's face fell. "Yeah I don't think so either."

"Maybe if you wish really really hard," Brittany suggested before kissing the top of Santana's head gently.

"I think it might take a little more than that, Brittany," said Santana with quiet amusement. "I don't know what it's going to take a little more _of _exactly…"

Brittany released her grip on Santana's wrist and instead wrapped her arms around her torso. "Don't worry, honey. We'll work it out," she said softly.

Santana raised her head once more and craned her neck so the two women were face to face. She closed the distance between them and pressed their lips together. Christina pulled a face and scrambled to her feet. Her glass of water could wait; this was something she most certainly did _not_ need to see. She scurried silently back to her bedroom.

As she lay in bed, trying to scrub her mind of any disturbing mental images trying to force their way through, Christina couldn't help but feel just a little bit lonely.

* * *

By the time the end of the school day was approaching, Santana was already fairly tired. She and Brittany had been up for most of the night, and not even in the good way. Santana hadn't even been able to persuade her into having pity sex. It was getting beyond a joke; if Santana didn't get laid very soon she was going to have to take up punching random strangers again to release her frustration and _nobody_ wanted that. Least of all the aforementioned strangers. Plus there was only so many times she could get away with, 'I didn't mean it. I tripped and my fist accidentally fell on his face'. People were becoming suspicious.

With a slight groan, Santana lifted her fingers to massage her temples. As with the day before, her whole day had been one unnecessary complicated event after another. She should have realised things weren't going to run smoothly after her conversation with Christina that morning. It had taken about an hour to convince her to attend Glee Club with them. She wasn't even sure why she felt so strongly about it. Maybe it was because if she had to suffer through it, then she wanted Christina too as well. Or maybe deep down she thought maybe joining the Glee Club could help Christina a little. Well, whatever it was, convincing the girl had been like pulling teeth. She had won though. Santana always won. Mostly. Sometimes. Only when Brittany wasn't on the opposing side…

Santana was disrupted from her musings by a thumping at her office door. She smiled, recognising the sound of those tiny fists anyway. Before she could answer, the door handle turned and Brittany poked her head into view.

"Ready to go?" she asked brightly. Without replying, Santana rose to her feet and quickly followed Brittany out the room and into the hallway, where Christina and her ginger friend (whose name Santana had once again forgotten) were already waiting for her.

"Hi, Mama," said Callie happily.

"Hey, sweetie," replied Santana instantly. "How has your day been?"

While Callie relayed her days events, she felt Brittany's fingers link through her own and the group made their way to the choir room. It felt strange to be walking through school like this with Brittany. Now, Santana wasn't one of those people who deluded themselves into thinking that high school was the 'best time of her life'; in fact, for the most part it had been nothing but an ordeal from start to finish. She couldn't help but feel a small twinge of nostalgia, however, as she and Brittany made their way through the hallways they had once ruled together with an iron fist.

They arrived at the choir room door around the time Callie finished her story about a giant dog that looked like Scooby Doo. Santana smiled and nodded with faux interest and took Callie's hand as they entered the room. As she'd expected, Callie fell silent at the twelve curious eyes that swept her way and reached over with her other hand so she was grasping onto Santana as tightly as she could. As a general rule Callie wasn't a shy child, but walking into a room full of strangers was enough to make anybody a little nervous.

Mr Schue jumped to his feet and welcomed the five with unparalleled enthusiasm, but Santana did not miss the hostile stares Christina and Ginger Girl were currently receiving from pretty much every member of the Glee Club. In fact, the only person who wasn't glaring was somebody Santana recognised instantly. From her seat right at the back of the class, Hazel smiled at her and waved.

"We're just waiting on one more," Will informed them as they moved to take seats; Santana, Brittany and Callie in the front and Christina and Ginger Girl at the back. Although being at the back didn't seem to stop people from turning around to glower at Christina. Maybe this hadn't been such a great idea after all…

"So," Santana heard Ginger Girl say, apparently oblivious to the anger being directed in her general direction. "I'm Charlotte," she announced to the girl next to her.

"Um…" came the nervous reply. "Yeah. I know who you are."

Santana turned her head just in time to catch the beaming smile Charlotte shot her. "Awesome," said Charlotte. "Who are you? Are you new? I don't think I've ever seen you before."

"Er…" said Hazel; she looked around uncomfortably. "No, I'm not new. My name is Hazel."

"That's really pretty," said Charlotte, a dreamy expression crossing her face. Santana stifled a laugh and turned her attention back to the child currently sat on her lap. Callie's eyes were wide as she glanced around at the group of rowdy teenagers. Beside her, Brittany was humming under her breath.

"I've missed this," Brittany commented idly.

"Really?" asked Santana dubiously. She looked around at the worn out instruments and oddly recognisable brown wall. "Why?"

Brittany shrugged. "Things were easier here."

Santana made a small noise of disagreement but otherwise kept her mouth shut. No. Things were not _easier_. Seemingly able to read her mind, Brittany smiled at her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Okay, so maybe things weren't all bad all the time," Santana admitted. "It wasn't exactly my idea of Valhalla though."

Before Brittany could reply, a harried looking student bustled through the door. "I know," he announced, clamping his hand to his forehead dramatically, "I'm late." He offered up no further explanation as he sat himself down. "Wait," he continued, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at the two cheerleaders in the back row, "What are _they_ doing here?"

"Everyone is welcome here, Dustin," said Mr Schue warningly.

"Even people who go out of their way to torment us on a daily basis?" another girl said accusingly. Santana sighed.

"Yeah, whatever," said Christina, her face clouding over. "I think you'll find I've done nothing to any of you. Like I'd waste my time on a bunch of losers like you." Santana's head snapped around and she looked at Christina scathingly. She had the good grace to at least look a little guilty.

"See what I mean!" the girl shrieked in reply. "Why are they here?"

"Stop shouting," said an Australian boy sat beside Santana with a roll of his eyes. "Who cares if they're here?"

"I do," retorted the late boy. "They're here to spy on us!"

"Spy on you for what?" asked Charlotte, sounding genuinely confused.

"Shut up, Charlotte," said Christina imperiously. "Don't talk to them."

"But why?" the girl protested. "I don't understand."

If this had been her class, Santana would have intervened in this argument before it had even started. As was his tradition however, Schue seemed to be watching the whole exchange with wide, ineffectual eyes. Santana would be lying if she said she was at all surprised. This had happened far too many times when she'd been a student herself for surprise. Okay, so she had admittedly been the one doling out the unnecessary words of aggression as a general rule, but that was beside the point.

"Why don't you just leave if you don't want to be here?" said the girl who Santana recognised to be Jessica, the one who she was fairly sure her new friend Hazel was madly in love with.

"What? You think I'm here of my own volition? That I'm so desperate to hang around with a group of nobodies that I just had to con my way into you den of disrepute? Because really–"

"That's enough, Christina," said Santana sharply. Christina closed her mouth instantly but still managed to shoot one final dirty look around at the room before looking unequivocally forwards. "That goes for you too," Santana added, noticing the rather smug looks the Glee Club were currently exchanging. "This is _not_ the way to win friends and influence people. Grow up."

There was an awkward pause and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Schue shoot her a grateful look. He just didn't have the firm hand one needed to control a class full of unruly students.

"That's easy for you to say though," said an Asian girl. She didn't sound argumentative; simply as though she was stating a fact. "You were a cheerleader. You don't know what it's like to be bullied constantly. You can't blame people for being upset."

Santana sighed and glanced briefly at Brittany. "I may have been a cheerleader…I may have even been the head cheerleader…I don't know if you've noticed though, but there's something else about me that doesn't exactly scream 'full acceptance in society'." She felt more than saw Brittany give a little wave of her hand behind her head. "I get that you're 'outsiders', blah blah blah, but lashing out at people isn't going to make anything better. Trust me. I would know."

"That's true," said Brittany, bobbing her head beside her. "I was there."

"Yeah, thank you, Brittany…"

"It doesn't seem to be bothering you much now though," muttered the late boy mutinously.

"Just because I don't let homophobia rule my life, doesn't mean it doesn't happen," replied Santana sternly. "At the moment, I am the coach of an all-girls cheerleading squad. Do you really think there weren't about fifteen calls of complaint the second people in this school found out that I'm…"

"Gay," Brittany helpfully supplied.

"Yes, thanks, Brittany," said Santana, to which Brittany grinned in reply.

"What?" said Christina suddenly. "Really? Who?"

Santana shrugged. "Doesn't matter. But the fact is, is that yeah, some people in this world are intolerant. But that doesn't mean you should let it ruin your life. And you _shouldn't_ take it out on relatively innocent bystanders. You'll only regret it later."

"Like Santana does," Brittany added.

"Yes, thank you, Brittany," said Santana in exasperation. "They get it."

The Glee Club seemed to be torn between amusement, annoyance and acceptance and Santana huffed and tightened her hold around Callie. Kids were exhausting. Although, she supposed they weren't really children anymore. She certainly wasn't looking forward to the day when Callie arrived home from school with a bucket full of teenage angst and inevitable relationship troubles. Not that she would be letting any boys within a twenty metre radius of her daughter, _ever_. Or girls for that matter.

"Erm, right then," said Mr. Schue, breaking the silence with a clap of his hands, "As you've spotted, we have a few guests today. I'm sure you remember Santana Lopez," he gestured to Santana and she rolled her eyes at him. "This is Brittany S Pierce," he then said, and Brittany gave a little wave while Santana bit back to urge to insist he added the 'Lopez' to the end of her name, "and their daughter, Callie." Callie smiled shyly and reached out to grip Brittany's hand.

"This is my entourage," Santana added, gesturing to the two girls sat at the back. "Don't go anywhere without them. They handle the bomb threats and keep the paparazzi at bay."

"I used to be in an entourage," said Brittany blandly. She frowned. "It wasn't much like the TV show though."

Will nodded, more to himself than anything. "Um…right. Anyway…" He then went on to talk about the theme of the week, Pink. "Queen of the underdogs," Mr. Schue explained. "She started where you are today and now look where she is." It was exactly the kind of 'lesson' that Santana remembered from her own time as a student in this room. Some things really didn't change.

The class was kicked off with a girl decked out in baggy jeans and a band t-shirt rising to her feet and singing 'Don't Let Me Get Me'. At the line about Britney Spears, Brittany leaned over and whispered that she was totally better than Britney in her ear. Santana grinned and clapped and cheered with the rest of the Glee Club when the song was over. A quick glance back at Christina showed her that she was at least a little impressed.

The next song on the agenda was 'Trouble', as performed by three of the male members of the club. Santana wasn't quite sure how well Pink would translate to guys, but as it turned out, pretty well. Callie had even jumped up to dance with Charlotte at the back of the class.

Then the time came for Santana and Brittany to take centre stage. She'd probably be a little nervous, but Santana Lopez didn't do nerves. Brittany bobbed excitedly beside her; she was used to performing in front of groups of people, so singing in front of a small high school Glee Club was probably nothing to her. Santana let a traditional smirk cross her face before bringing the microphone up to her lips.

_Made a wrong turn  
Once or twice  
Dug my way out  
Blood and fire  
Bad decisions  
That's alright  
Welcome to my silly life  
Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood  
Miss "no way it's all good"  
It didn't slow me down  
Mistaken  
Always second guessing  
Underestimated  
Look, I'm still around..._

Brittany smiled at her and opened her mouth to join in for the chorus.

_Pretty, pretty please  
Don't you ever, ever feel  
Like your less than  
Less than perfect  
Pretty, pretty please  
If you ever, ever feel  
Like your nothing  
You are perfect to me_

Santana took over once more for the verse. For the first time she allowed her eyes to drift from Brittany to glance briefly at the other occupants in the room; they no longer looked hostile so she took it as a good sign.

_You're so mean  
When you talk  
About yourself  
You are wrong  
Change the voices  
In your head  
Make them like you  
Instead  
_

As discussed, Brittany sang the next part while Santana linked their fingers together and sang the occasional harmony, then together they sang the final chorus. The music stopped and the room burst into applause while Callie jumped up and down and cheered. Santana beamed at them and let Brittany tug her down into a bow.

"Thanks, guys. That was great," said Will, looking absurdly pleased with himself for some reason.

"Obviously," replied Santana, with a raised eyebrow. Brittany giggled and pulled her back to their chairs.

"I guess that wasn't too awful," a voice said behind her head. She turned around and smirked at Christina.

"We make everything awesome," replied Brittany with a shrug.

They rounded off the evening with a group performance of 'Raise Your Glass'. Honestly, Santana had never been quite sure why they'd never sung it when she and Brittany had been at school. She vaguely remembered those kids from Gay Hogwarts singing it or something, but she was pretty sure that preppy, popular rich kids doing it wouldn't have made a whole lot of sense. Oh well…she was probably remembering it wrong.

The song drew to a close and Santana and Brittany clapped enthusiastically. These kids were really very talented. Not as talented as her or Brittany, obviously. Not as good as her Cheerios either. They were okay though; especially Hazel's lady-love. Jessica had some seriously good vocal talent. Not quite up to the Rachel Berry standard, but so few people were. Not that Santana would ever tell Rachel that.

"Okay, guys. I think we might have a song for Regionals!" said Will happily. The Glee Club looked rather pleased and moved to grab their stuff to leave.

"This was fun," said Brittany cheerfully.

"Don't let, Mr. Schue hear you say that," replied Santana. Brittany looked a little confused but nodded in agreement. "He'll never let us leave."

Santana turned around to scan the room for her Cheerios. She spotted Charlotte still talking to…well, 'at' was probably a more appropriate word…Hazel, who appeared more than a little flustered while Christina was still sulking in the back.

"Can we do this again?" asked Callie, appearing at her side.

"Um…"

"That's a fantastic idea," said Will loudly from the other side of the classroom. Santana grimaced. "You're welcome back any time."

"Maybe, sweetie," she said unwillingly. Ugh.

"Yay!" said Callie. Brittany held up her hand and the two high-fived.

The room was almost empty now and Christina ambled over to her. "Ready to go?" asked Santana. Christina nodded gratefully and turned to where her friend was still stood.

"Come on, Charlotte," she said with exasperation. "We don't have all day."

The ginger girl glanced over at them with a rather disappointed look on her face. Without warning, she grabbed hold of Hazel's wrist and dragged her over to where the Pierce-Lopez family stood.

"This is Hazel," Charlotte said happily. Christina rolled her eyes. "I thought she was new but she says she's been here for three years. She's my friend now. She has a dog called Jackson after Michael Jackson. Isn't that cool?"

Hazel made a small noise of distress under her breath as her eyes darted around as though looking for an escape. Beside Santana, Brittany tilted her head to one side thoughtfully. Santana could tell she was trying to remember where she'd heard the name before.

"Fascinating," said Christina dryly. Hazel's cheeks turned pink and she bowed her head so her hair fell in front of her face. There was an awkward silence.

"I'm hungry," Callie announced, tugging at Santana's hand.

"Okay, sweetie," said Santana absently. "We're leaving now."

"Do you wanna come to Breadsticks with us?" Brittany asked the two teenagers in front of them. Charlotte nodded her head with enthusiasm.

"Um…No thank you," said Hazel quietly. "I should…I need to get home."

"Another time then," said Santana shortly. "Now, out." She pointed to the door and let Brittany lead the way. Before she left, she turned around and gave Hazel a quick salute.

* * *

It was once again post one a.m., and Christina lay restlessly in bed. She'd received a phone call from her social worker a few hours earlier telling her the date of her father's court case. In just over a week she was going to have to take the stand and tell a room full of strangers things that she really didn't want to tell anybody at all. Several scenarios ran through her head, each worse than the last, but all ending with her being forced to return home with her father. He wasn't going to be happy with her _at all_.

She sighed and wrapped her damaged arms around herself. There was no way she was getting to sleep tonight.

She pushed herself out of bed and made her way across the room. Maybe she'd have better luck getting that glass of water tonight without risking the mental scarring that came from watching her cheerleading coach instigate a heavy make-out session with her wife. She suppressed a shudder and made her way down to the kitchen. Much to her surprise, the light was already on.

Pausing briefly, she pushed open the door and took a step inside. Brittany sat hunched over the kitchen table with a look of intense concentration of her face. She looked up sharply at the sound of Christina's footsteps but smiled warmly when she realised who it was.

"I didn't think anyone would be awake," said Christina awkwardly. She'd never really talked to Brittany before; the blonde woman made her a little nervous though she didn't really understand why.

"I'm trying to finish this," said Brittany, gesturing to a jigsaw puzzle in front of her. Christina looked down and frowned; the pieces weren't even in the right places. "I don't think it's going to work properly though," she continued sadly. "They've made the holes the wrong shapes for the pieces."

"Um…" said Christina slowly, unsure as to whether she should correct her. "Right."

Brittany put her finger down on the table and pushed some of the pieces around thoughtfully. Then her head snapped back up and she smiled at Christina, her blue eyes twinkling merrily. "Is there something I can get for you?"

"I just wanted a glass of water," Christina told her.

"Water?" Brittany asked with dismay. "That's kind of boring."

"Well…"

"How about we have hot chocolate instead?" she suggested. Then before Christina could respond, she jumped to her feet with remarkable agility and practically bounced over to the kettle. "Perfect."

Christina bit her lip. It wasn't that she didn't like Brittany…she was just a little strange. Reluctantly, she sat down on the chair opposite where the woman had been and began to rearrange the jigsaw to display the correct picture.

In no time at all, Brittany had finished making the drinks and sat herself back down to face Christina. She smiled rather blandly and blew cold air at the steam rising from her mug.

"Um…" said Christina after a moment, the silence getting to her more than it probably should. "Could you not sleep?"

For a second, Brittany looked thoughtful. "I could for a while…and then I accidentally rolled out of bed so I decided to come downstairs. I didn't want to wake Santana up. She was kind of annoyed with me after last time…"

Christina made a small noise of agreement. She remembered 'last time' all too well.

"How about you?" asked Brittany. Her voice was nonchalant but she gazed at Christina significantly.

With a gulp, Christina shook her head. "I'm just not tired," she lied. For a moment, Brittany almost looked disappointed, but it was gone so quickly that Christina was sure she'd imagined it.

Silence fell and Brittany's eyes dropped to focus her attention back on the puzzle in front of her. Immediately, Christina relaxed. There was just something a little too…knowing about Brittany's gaze. Like she could read what you were thinking or something. It was a strange contrast with her usual demeanour which Christina had always thought of as far from…well…_knowing_. She was quickly coming to realise that there was a lot more to Brittany S Pierce than people might think upon first meeting her.

"How are you so happy all the time?" said Christina abruptly when a bright smile crossed Brittany's face as she added an additional piece to her jigsaw (once again in the wrong place).

"What do you mean?" asked Brittany absently.

Christina opened and closed her mouth a couple of times before awkwardly fumbling for an answer. "Well you…I just…Not many adults would enjoy spending their night playing with a jigsaw. Or watching old episodes of Top Cat. Or dressing up like a pirate."

Brittany's mouth formed an 'o' shape and she shrugged. "I don't see the point in being an adult if you can't be childish sometimes," she said as though it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Santana's grown up enough for both of us."

Thinking about this, Christina nodded slowly. "So that's why you're both so happy all the time?"

Brittany shot her a bemused look.

"Because you sort of balance each other out, I mean," Christina hurried to explain as she felt her cheeks turn pink. This conversation was probably a bit too personal to be having with her teacher's wife. Although, was Brittany more of a foster parent now?

"Maybe," said Brittany with a delighted smile. "We are sort of opposite-y."

"You're just…" Christina began clumsily. She wrapped her arms around herself and self-consciously noticed the way Brittany's eyes flickered down to the red marks across them. "You're happier together than my parents ever were. They fought all the time."

Brittany's gaze became sympathetic and Christina looked away. "Santana and I fight sometimes," she said with a shrug. "But you know…we love each other. We're not perfect though. Nobody is. Well…maybe I am perfect. When I was seventeen my cat, Lord Tubbington, told me I was so…" A quick look up told Christina that Brittany was being absolutely serious about her last statement and she suppressed a smile.

"Besides," Brittany continued with a wry grin, "The secret to our marriage is that when I ask for Santana's opinion on something, ninety-five percent of the time the decision has already been made. I let her think things are her idea to keep her happy though."

This time, Christina really did smile. "Does she know that?"

Brittany's eyes widened and she shook her head. "I think she'd be annoyed if she found out," she said anxiously. "Don't tell her."

"I won't," Christina assured her. She took a sip of her hot chocolate and regarded Brittany curiously. She wasn't sure how far she could push this conversation before Brittany became annoyed or stopped answering her questions. They'd both been so nice to her and she didn't want to upset anyone.

"You can ask me," said Brittany unexpectedly.

Christina flinched. "Um…ask you what?"

"Whatever you're thinking, silly," said Brittany kindly. "I won't bite. Well…Unless San–" she cut herself off abruptly. "Oh I don't think I'm supposed to say that. Sorry."

With a grimace, Christina tried to pretend she hadn't heard that. "Right," she said softly. "Um…I was just wondering how Coach…Lopez…um, Santana…how she got over everything? You know…with…the stuff."

Brittany's smile slowly faded. "I'll have to let you know when that happens," she said.

"What do you mean?" asked Christina curiously.

It took a moment for Brittany to respond. "Well…Santana is more of a 'run from your problems' kind of person," she said with a shrug. "She's okay and she's happy…"

"But?"

"But I wouldn't say she was 'over everything'," said Brittany distantly. "I mean…healthy minded people don't get nightmares every night just because they go to their hometown, do they?"

Christina frowned and shook her head, because it actually sounded like Brittany was asking for her opinion. "I don't think so," she said, suddenly remembering the conversation she'd overheard Callie and Brittany having in the school library what felt like eons ago.

"Santana…" Brittany continued thoughtfully as though Christina hadn't spoken. "She'll get there, but right now? She has too many unresolved issues."

"Oh," said Christina hopelessly. If Satan couldn't even sort herself out, what hope did she have? "Issues with what?"

Brittany smiled bitterly; it was a look that didn't suit her at all. "Her mother."

Christina was a little confused. "But I thought it was her dad…"

"She told you?" said Brittany, sounding a little surprised. "I wasn't sure…" she mumbled. Christina nodded faintly. There was a pause and Brittany's gaze drifted over to the window and her eyes glazed over.

"Um…Brittany?" said Christina after a minute. Brittany's head snapped back to her and she smiled wanly.

"What?"

Christina blinked. "Um…you were talking about Lo…Santana's mom?"

Instantly, Brittany's expression darkened. "I don't really like her," she said in a low voice. "She wasn't very nice to Santana when bad things happened. And she wouldn't come to our wedding."

"Oh," replied Christina slowly, feeling a pang of sadness. "Where is she now?"

Brittany shrugged. "In bed probably. It's kind of late, you know."

"No," said Christina. "I mean where in the world."

"Oh, you should have said so!" replied Brittany, looking at Christina as though she were a little stupid. "Still in Lima somewhere I suppose. Dr. Lopez is still here so it makes sense."

Christina looked down at her hands, deep in thought. "And you think that if she talks to her mom then she'll get better?"

"That's not what I said," replied Brittany. She squinted down at the jigsaw puzzle in front of her. "You know…I think I might have put some of these in the wrong place."

"It still looks okay though," said Christina generously.

"I think if Santana understood more then she'd be happier," Brittany continued. "She can pretend all she wants, but she loves her mom and it kills her that she thinks her mom doesn't love her back. I think sometimes she feels like she doesn't deserve happiness…like 'cause if her own parents didn't even like her then why should anybody else? She's wrong though."

As Christina absorbed this information, Brittany seemed to become distracted once more by the puzzle in front of her. She wondered how Satan would feel if she knew her wife was divulging all of her secrets to one of her students. Not very good, she guessed. Brittany didn't really seem to understand those 'boundaries' rules though. Like she couldn't tell what was appropriate to share and what wasn't. Or she really didn't care. Either way, Christina figured Brittany didn't really have any secrets herself; she was far too open. It was obvious why Lopez loved her so much.

Christina thought for a moment about what Santana had told her when she'd first entered this house. "Do you think," she began. "Um…Santana said to me that she met her father again when she was older. Would you tell me what happened?"

When Brittany looked up at her, her eyes were clearer than Christina had ever seen them. She had the oddest feeling that Brittany was looking straight into her mind and didn't like it one bit. "No," she said finally. She smiled sadly and reached over to pat Christina's hand gently. "That isn't my story to share. Santana would be upset if I told you."

Reluctantly, Christina nodded. "Sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Brittany smiled and once again seemed to revert back to her slightly dopey self that Christina was so accustomed to. "Yes you did," she said with amusement. "But that's okay. No harm done. Maybe Santana will tell you about it herself one day."

Knowing she would never, ever ask Lopez about it, Christina kept her mouth closed. The conversation seemed to be over so she took another sip of her drink. She spent the next half an hour helping Brittany to complete her jigsaw puzzle, and was surprised to find she actually rather enjoyed it.

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Thank you for reading this exhaustingly long chapter :-)

To Ghost buster: I thought I'd mentioned her original last name before but I've been and checked and you're right! Well, Santana's biological father is called 'Reyes'. So she would have been Santana Reyes. Then she changed it because being a 'Lopez' was the lesser of two evils. Hope that answers your question :-)


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Um…yes. Hi, all. I completely understand any projectiles being thrown my way right now, but if we could keep it to things smaller than a cushion I'd be very grateful. Very sorry for the delay. Writing is hard! Also, your computer crashing and deleting three-thousand words so you have to rewrite them is hard too. No me gusta. Anywho, as always a massive thank you to everyone who is reading and in particular to those who take the time to review! They are incredibly motivating in times when I want nothing more than to hit my computer with a large, blunt instrument.

This chapter is a little jumpy (one of the reasons it took so long to write) but I'm gonna assume you know by now that when I use italics, the scene is a high school flashback. I hope you enjoy it!

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 26_

After half an hour of peaceful silence, Brittany bade goodnight to their houseguest and made her way to bed. Her talk with Christina had given her quite a bit to think about, even though she had actually been the one doing most of the speaking.

She closed her bedroom door behind her, slid her black dressing gown off her shoulders and placed it gently on the chair in front of the dressing table. Brittany rolled her shoulders and bit back a small groan. Her joints felt itchy from the lack of movement, and not just from today. She always started to feel restless like this when she hadn't danced in so long and it wasn't helping that Santana was…out of action, so to speak, to distract her.

With a loud yawn, Brittany slid into bed and automatically scooted over to Santana's side. She wrapped an arm around Santana's waist and pulled her closer.

"Don't…" Santana mumbled under her breath. Brittany frowned. Don't _what_?

"What's wrong?" asked Brittany softly. Santana didn't respond but let out a small whimper of frustration. "Santana?" It was then that Brittany noticed her wife's erratic breathing. Brittany bit down on her bottom lip; Santana hadn't taken her sleeping tablets today. She'd fallen asleep on the couch so Brittany had carried her to bed.

"Brittany?" Santana mumbled in a slightly fearful voice.

Swallowing against a lump in her throat, Brittany pressed herself as closely to Santana as she could and draped her leg over her hip. "Shh," Brittany hushed in Santana's ear. "It's okay, honey. I'm here."

Santana let out another whimper.

"I've got you, Santana," said Brittany quietly. She reached over and brushed dark hair from Santana's clammy forehead. "Everything's fine."

It took a few minutes, but eventually Santana stopped trembling and relaxed into Brittany's embrace. Brittany let out a sigh of relief and pressed a soft kiss to the back of Santana's neck. She wasn't sure what she'd have done if Santana had jumped up screaming again. Once was quite enough.

* * *

_It took Brittany no more than ten minutes to appear in her bedroom after Santana had sent her the SOS text. Either Brittany had all but run to her house or she'd already been on the way. Whichever it was, Santana wasn't as grateful as she probably should have been when her friend stumbled through the door. She wasn't in the best of moods. _

"_Hey, Santana," said Brittany, slightly breathless. "What's up?" _

_Pausing for a moment, Santana shrugged her shoulders from her position on the bed. "Nothing," she replied in a gruff voice. _

_Brittany frowned. "But you sent me a message that said 'SOS'. I asked my mom what it stood for and she said it meant that we had to save Seoul? I don't really know what you meant, but I figure if you want to go to Korea then it must have been important?" _

_A brief smile flitted across Santana's face. "Soul, Britt. Not…you know what? Forget it." Brittany nodded willingly. "I'm just bored."_

"_Well yeah," replied Brittany, her nose wrinkling in confusion. "You're not doing anything."_

_She bit back a surge of annoyance. "That's because there's nothing to do in this shit hole of a town," said Santana bitterly. She turned her head so she was looking out the window. Maybe calling Brittany over hadn't been such a great idea after all. _

"_You wanna see what I learnt on the computer today?" said Brittany after a few seconds of awkward silence. _

_With a sigh, Santana rolled over so she was facing Brittany again. "Go on then." _

_Brittany's face lit up with excitement and she grabbed Santana's new laptop from her desk with unnecessary force and threw herself down on the bed. _

"_Try not to break it," said Santana weakly as Brittany began to press down on random keys in order to speed up the loading up page. _

"_I won't," said Brittany with ill-deserved confidence. "My grandma taught me how to use it. Did you know you can play games and stuff on this thing? And there's this thing called MyFace or SpaceBook…I forget which…and it has pictures of all the people who go to our school on it." _

"_Wow," replied Santana dryly. The Windows screen finally loaded. "My password is…" But Brittany had already typed it out and pressed enter. Santana frowned. "How did you know what–"_

"_I'm your best friend, Santana," interrupted Brittany with a pout. "I know everything about you." _

_Something heavy settled in Santana's chest and she simply nodded as Brittany continued to tap away on the machine. It took a couple of minutes for her to figure out how to get the internet up and running, but eventually Brittany shot Santana a proud smile and turned the screen around to display the Wal-Mart online shopping page. Santana pursed her lips. _

"_Look, San. It's called like…internet shopping. You can buy everything you want without ever having to leave your house," said Brittany with excitement. Santana resisted the urge to roll her eyes and Brittany's complete lack of technological awareness. _

"_Right," she said unenthusiastically. "And your grandmother taught you this?" _

"_Yes," replied Brittany proudly. _

"_The one who thinks Elvis talks to her through the TV?" _

_With wide eyes, Brittany nodded. "He does. I heard him." _

"_Ugh," Santana groaned. "Virtual shopping for old people with no grip on reality. Sounds about right." _

_Brittany closed the lid of the laptop and placed in gently on the floor. "Do you not like it?" she asked; the sadness in her voice made Santana squirm with guilt. _

"_Of course I do. You know how I love shopping," replied Santana with a rather forced smile. "I just don't feel like it right now, okay?" _

"_Oh," said Brittany with a frown. The concept was probably a little foreign to her because Brittany always felt like shopping. It had been something of an issue for Santana who, up until recently, hadn't a dollar to her name for the most part. "What do you wanna do then?" _

"_How about we just watch a movie?" Santana suggested. She didn't really feel like talking. _

"_Can we watch The Aristocats?" asked Brittany hopefully. _

_Santana smiled and gave a short nod. "Whatever you want, Britt-Britt." _

_Half an hour later, the two girls were cuddled up on the couch watching as five cats trekked across what Santana guessed to be Paris. She'd never really understood this film before; who loved their cats so much that they decided to leave all of their worldly possessions to them in their will? She made a mental note to make sure that when the time came, Brittany did not decide to name Lord Tubbington as the sole benefactor of her worldly possessions. She wouldn't put it past the other girl so an intervention might be necessary. _

"_Santana?" _

"_Yeah?" _

"_Where's your mom and Doctor Lopez?" asked Brittany, a rather confused look on her face as though she'd only just realised they were alone in the house. _

_Santana shrugged dismissively. "They're in Aruba. Or Barbados. Or the Cayman Islands… Don't really remember. Somewhere in that area." _

"_Oh," said Brittany, her customary blank stare in place. "How long have they been gone?" _

_Santana shrugged again. "Couple of weeks I guess." _

_There was a strange flash of emotion across Brittany's face and Santana frowned. It was gone too quickly for her to place. "Oh," was all Brittany then said in reply. She shuffled even closer to Santana and linked their pinkies together._

* * *

When Brittany and Santana awoke in the morning, Santana apparently had no recollection of her nightmare the night before, for which Brittany was eternally grateful. They'd suffered through enough trials and tribulations over the past few weeks as it was. Besides, Santana was always super grumpy when she remembered her dreams and cheering her up was a lot more difficult when Brittany couldn't use sex as a primary remedy.

Oddly, Santana actually seemed rather cheerful. She was humming the music to Spongebob Squarepants under her breath as she poured milk over the bowl of Lucky Charms she was preparing for Callie anyway, which Brittany took as a sign of happiness.

"Here you go, sweetie," said Santana, kissing their daughter on the cheek as she passed her breakfast over.

Callie grabbed her spoon and began to stir the cereal with enthusiasm. Santana frowned at her in confusion but Brittany knew that Callie was just trying to make the milk sweet; it made perfect sense. The family remained silent for a couple of minutes as Santana went about making breakfast for herself and Brittany, but obviously in the Lopez household things didn't stay quiet for long.

"What are we doing today, Mommy?" asked Callie after shovelling a large quantity of Lucky Charms into her comparatively small mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," Santana admonished without turning around from her position at the toaster.

"Sorry," replied Callie, her mouth still crammed with cereal. Brittany smiled at her and shook her head.

"I don't know," she said thoughtfully. "What do you want to do?"

"Park," replied Callie instantly.

"Like mother like daughter," Santana commented idly.

"We went to the park yesterday though," Brittany whined. "And the day before. And the day before that. And I think the day before that too…"

"But I like it," said Callie, jutting out her bottom lip pitifully.

"But–"

"Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez," said Santana, spinning around with a wicked gleam in her eye and a plate of toast in her hand. "Please tell me you aren't about to say no to our _only_ child? Our precious baby daughter who has done nothing but love you unconditionally."

Santana took the couple of short steps from the kitchen counter over to the table and set the plate down between Brittany and herself.

"But San–"

"Look at her," said Santana dramatically. "How can you say no to that face? All she wants to do is go and play on the swings."

Unwillingly, Brittany glanced over at Callie, who was not only using her own signature pout against her (Brittany now understood why Santana hated it so much) but her eyes, that were so inexplicably similar to Santana's, were comically wide as she gazed at Brittany pleadingly.

"Oh…okay then," Brittany relented.

"Thank you!" said Callie happily. She turned back to her food and began to attack it with extra enthusiasm.

"And that's what you get," Santana muttered under her breath.

Brittany's eyes widened. "What? Get for what?"

* * *

"_Why are you so smiley?" asked Brittany, her own mouth twitching._

"_No reason," said Santana nonchalantly. She stopped outside their lockers and began to unload books from her bag. "Well," she added with a shrug, "I just got ninety-five percent on my history exam. No big deal though." _

_Brittany's grin widened as Santana fought to keep the smug look from her own face. "That's awesome, Santana." _

"_I'm totally one of the smartest people in the school," said Santana with another shrug. And she so was. _

"_Well yeah," Brittany readily agreed. "The smartest." _

_Without responding this time, Santana finished shoving books into her locker and slammed it closed. No way was she studying tonight; she deserved a break. She did make sure, however, to keep one book with her so she could keep her test paper flat inside it. Apparently spending that whole weekend stuck in a Wikipedia loop hadn't been as big of a waste of time as she'd originally thought. _

"_Wanna hang out tonight?" asked Brittany as Santana swung her bag over her shoulder. "Lord Tubbington borrowed a copy of Tangled from his friend last night so we could watch it." _

_Santana thought about this for a moment. "Maybe later," she said finally. "My mom wants me home for dinner." Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. Her mom and Daniel (she refused to call him 'dad' no matter how many times he suggested it) were in fact home for dinner this evening, but they hadn't requested her presence at all. Santana chose to believe they would have done if they'd thought ahead though. Besides, she really wanted to show them how well she'd done on her exam; her step-father seemed to prize intelligence above all other qualities so maybe he'd be impressed. _

"_Okay," said Brittany, appearing oddly happy. "I'll call you later then?" _

"_Sure," replied Santana with a smile. _

_Really, Santana shouldn't have been at all surprised about the response she got from her parents. It had been one of those times where you imagine a whole scenario in your head but when it came down to it, everything was completely different to how you expected it to be down to the very last detail. Looking back on it, she didn't know why she'd expected any differently. _

"_Santana," her mother admonished immediately when Santana had causally slipped her test score into the conversation. "No talking shop at the dinner table. I get enough of it at work." _

_With a scowl, Santana looked down at her plate. "I don't want to talk about shops. I just thought you'd want to know that I'm doing better at school."_

_Doctor Lopez smiled a little. "When you get a hundred percent, we'll celebrate," he said with a wink. Santana genuinely wasn't sure if he was trying to belittle her achievement or whether he was trying to encourage her to do better. She pursed her lips and focused her attention on her food. Whatever. Screw them. Next time she just wasn't going to bother. _

_About fifteen minutes later, Doctor Lopez got called into work to perform some emergency surgery (or whatever it was; Santana wasn't really paying attention) and her mom decided to go with him for…well Santana wasn't quite sure why._

* * *

Brittany leaned back in her chair and regarded Santana carefully. She didn't want to spoil her wife's good mood but she felt like this was kind of important.

"Go on then," Santana prompted. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's _wrong_," said Brittany immediately.

"Okay," replied Santana slowly. "Then why have you been staring at me all morning like you used to stare at your pay checks?"

Brittany felt her cheeks turn pink. "That's not fair. I bet loads of people are confused about why FICA was taking their money at first."

"Of course they are," said Santana condescendingly. Brittany huffed and folded her arms.

"You're so mean sometimes," said Brittany.

"And you're stalling," Santana replied, clearly unimpressed.

"What's _stalling_?" asked Callie mindlessly, poking at her now empty bowl. "Isn't that what you said last time you made the car break, Mama?"

"I…I didn't make the car break," said Santana, her face turning a little red. "It just stops sometimes. It was so not my fault."

"It doesn't stop when mommy drives…" Callie said, furrowing her brows in confusion. "Uncle Kurt says it's just 'cause you're a bad driver."

"I am not a bad driver!" Santana protested loudly, her preoccupation with Brittany's apparent staring seemingly forgotten. "You talked to Kurt about my driving? You little brat. No more ice cream for you!"

Callie giggled at the empty threat and Brittany raised a hand to cover her growing smile. "Can I learn to drive soon?" Callie inquired.

"Not yet, baby," Brittany cooed, leaning over and kissing the girl on the cheek affectionately. "Give it twenty or so years and we'll think about it."

"But that's ages away!" argued the girl, pouting her lips once more. "I want to learn now."

Brittany sighed and turned to Santana. "You know," she said, "I was never this argumentative. I think she gets this from you."

Santana let out a short noise of disbelief. "Oh _really_?" she said. "I guess it must have been _me_ who sat inside the washing machine for a whole day because _my_ mom wanted to wash _my_ favourite teddy bear even though _I_ didn't want her too then."

"That's how I remember it happening," said Brittany slowly. Santana cocked an eyebrow. "He didn't want to go in the washing machine, okay? He could have drowned, Santana!"

"What does this have to do with my driving lessons?" Callie interrupted.

"Maybe when you're thirty, sweetie," replied Santana, switching her attention back to the child.

"Thirty-five," Brittany corrected, a stab of worry plaguing her as the thought of her little girl driving a car flashed through her mind. She was definitely going to need to find out if Callie was going to somehow inherit Santana's road rage before letting her behind the wheel at the very least.

"That's not fair," Callie muttered mutinously.

"I know," said Santana with a shrug of her shoulders. "Your difficult life is just full of woes."

Callie scrunched up her face in confusion and looked to Brittany for help deciphering Santana's sentence. Brittany simply smiled. "Go get dressed, baby. Your mama has to go to work soon."

With a nod, Called jumped down from her seat and headed to the door.

"Make sure Christina is awake too," Santana called after her. "If she isn't you can jump on her bed!"

They waited until Callie's tiny footsteps had gone out of hearing distance before turning to face each other properly. Brittany looked down at the table, suddenly feeling a little nervous about what she wanted to say. She knew full well Santana wasn't going to react well to it and now that it came down to it, she wasn't sure if now was actually the best time to have this conversation. It would put Santana in a bad mood for the whole day and she didn't really want to make those poor Cheerios suffer anymore than they were going to under her wife's tyrannous reign already.

"You said it yourself, Britt," said Santana after a moment, "I'm heading out to work soon and I know there's something to want to tell me. Can it wait until later or are we gonna do this now?"

Pondering it for another moment, Brittany decided that giving Santana the day away from her to deliberate her options might actually be the way forward. It was a little selfish, perhaps, but if it saved her from the inevitable rant for a few hours then Brittany thought it was worth it.

Okay. Fast – like Speedy Gonzales.

"I think you should go and see your mom."

Santana blinked once. Then twice.

"I'm sorry. I think I must be hearing you wrong. I have the oddest feeling that you just told me to go and visit my homophobic and neglectful mother?" said Santana dryly.

Brittany frowned. Well, yeah. Isn't that what she'd just said? "I did," she confirmed, feeling a little confused.

"Okay," said Santana slowly. Brittany could tell she was trying her very best to keep the anger from her voice and face. "And why would I wanna do that?"

"You know why," replied Brittany.

"Because it would be a great way to piss off my step-father?" Santana hazarded a guess. "I gotta tell you, there are easier ways to do that without putting myself through a conversation with my mother. Assuming she'd actually _speak_ to me."

Brittany sighed. "You've wanted to talk to her for years, Santana," she pointed out. "I know you called her when Callie was born."

Eyes widening, Santana sat up a little straighter in her chair. "How?"

"I wasn't as asleep as you thought I was," replied Brittany dismissively. "I heard you though and you can deny it to me and even yourself, but I know you miss her."

"That was six years ago," Santana objected. "I don't _miss_ her."

"Okay, maybe not," Brittany agreed. "You want to see her again though. And I think you should."

There was a pause. "No," said Santana eventually. "I can't."

* * *

"_Why are you so angry?" asked Brittany curiously. "It's your birthday." _

"_I'm not angry," Santana snapped in reply. She slammed her locker door and began the short walk to the lunch room with Brittany trailing after her like a wounded puppy dog. _

"_Are you sure?" said Brittany dubiously. She caught up to Santana easily and fell into step beside her. "That locker didn't do anything to you." _

"_I'm fine, Brittany," said Santana, taking vindictive delight in the way the other students seemed to notice her displeasure and were practically throwing themselves out of her way as she stalked onwards. _

"_Santana, you tried to punch the leprechaun girl in the face before because you didn't like the way she was holding her pen. That is not what fine people do," said Brittany._

"_Rachel Berry?" asked Santana. Brittany nodded in confirmation. "Yeah well she deserved it for being so annoying." _

"_Yeah but Quinn's already slushied her once today. If my friends are too mean to her she won't give me the pot of gold she keeps at the end of her rainbow," said Brittany, a small pout appearing on her face. Santana shot her a baffled look. _

"_Brittany, the only rainbow following Rachel Berry around is the flag that her fairy queen parents fly high above their heads," said Santana with a roll of her eyes. _

"_Her parents are fairies?" said Brittany, suddenly excited. _

"_Not the good kind of fairy," replied Santana. They arrived at the door of the cafeteria and Santana held it open for Brittany to step through in front of her. _

"_I didn't know there was a bad kind of fairy," Brittany mumbled under her breath as the two girls walked over to the lunch ladies and procured their sticks of celery and other such delicious treats. _

_With their trays full…ish, Santana scanned the overcrowded cafeteria for somewhere to sit. She could obviously have any table she wanted; all she needed to do was shove a few kids on the floor and the world was her oyster. It was, however, her birthday today and she just couldn't be doing with that kind of drama if she could help it. Her eyes drifted to the far corner and she smirked as a blonde girl waved her hand in a regal gesturing motion. She nudged Brittany gently and began walking towards the mostly free table. _

"_Hey, Quinn," said Brittany softly as the two sat down in front of their friend. Quinn gave them a rather smug smile and Santana suspected she was still enjoying the after-effects of throwing a slushy at one Rachel Berry. Sure, Santana was a bitch and she'd do pretty much anything to get what she wanted, but she'd never taken any particular relish in bullying lesser mortals like Quinn seemed to. Of course that didn't mean she was going to stop doing it. If anything, Santana was doing people a favour by telling them how much they sucked. How else would they ever improve themselves? _

"_Girls," replied Quinn by way of greeting. Santana resisted the urge to roll her eyes; Quinn had such an unbelievable superiority complex. Everybody on God's green earth knew that Queen Quinn was next in line to be head cheerleader at McKinley High School, but she wasn't there yet. Not that you'd know it based on the way she strutted around the place like she owned it. It was one of the things that Santana couldn't help but admire about her. She could control a room with a simple raise of her eyebrow. Quinn was legend and everybody knew it._

_As Brittany and Santana began to force down the deeply appetizing carrot sticks on their tray, Quinn began a lengthy and well thought out speech about her new ideas for the next Cheerios routine. Santana zoned out almost instantly and though Brittany was staring at Quinn with rapt attention, Santana knew she wasn't following the words at all. After what felt like an age, but was in reality only about four and a half minutes, Quinn trailed to a halt with a pleased look on her face. Santana guessed she must have finished explaining her plans and made a quick noise of agreement. Better to stay on Quinn's good side if she could help it. For now at least._

"_So, Santana," said Quinn, fixing her somehow both warm and cold eyes on her. "What did your parents give you for your birthday?" _

_Santana pursed her lips. So Quinn had remembered it was her birthday then and had just elected not to mention it when they'd been sat in English together earlier. Well wasn't that just lovely. _

"_A car," said Santana shortly. Brittany's mouth dropped open and Quinn's eyes flashed with jealously. It would have been comical if Santana hadn't been so pissed off about the whole thing. _

"_You're not even old enough to drive though," Quinn pointed out, her voice sweet and sickly. _

"_You've never even had a lesson!" Brittany added with astonishment. _

_Santana shrugged. "I guess they forgot that minor little detail." Obviously the woman who gave birth to her couldn't be expected to remember trivial information such as how old Santana actually was._

_Quinn let out a huff and looked down to inspect her nails. "I expect Daddy will buy me a car next year. When I'm old enough to actually use it." She looked pointedly at Santana who scowled. It wasn't like she'd asked for a freaking car. She'd personally have settled for her mom and step-dad to simply have been home today. Apparently promises made after missed Cheerios competitions meant very little in the Lopez household. _

"_Can I come and see it tonight?" asked Brittany with a grin. _

"_Sure," replied Santana. "I mean…we won't be able to get it off my driveway but you're welcome to come and gaze adoringly at my new set of wheels." _

"_Awesome."_

_Santana actively ignored the butterflies in her stomach at the sight of __Brittany__ smiling at her with such delight. Maybe the rest of her day wouldn't be quite so awful after all._

* * *

Brittany stared at Santana until eventually the other woman looked away. "Can't or won't?" Brittany prompted.

"Won't," Santana bit back. "I won't. Do you know how many times I've called her just to be ignored?"

"Yeah," said Brittany simply.

"Well then why–"

"Stop getting angry with me," said Brittany sharply. Santana let out a long stream of air and Brittany could see her mentally trying to reel herself back in. "I think it would be good for you to just have a chat with your mom."

Santana licked her lips. "Brittany, she doesn't want to see me."

"You don't know that," she replied. Santana pulled a face of disagreement. "Maybe she wants to talk to you just as much as you want to talk to her and she's just too scared to like you are."

"I don't want to talk to her," said Santana stubbornly. "I won't go and you can't make me!"

That's when Brittany knew she had her. Santana always resorted to childish tantrums when she knew she wasn't going to get her own way. Or at least she used to; it had been happening less and less over the years. Brittany scooted her chair a little closer to her wife and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"I know you don't want to," she said quietly, "but at least you'd know."

"Know what?" replied Santana, resigned.

"You wouldn't have to wonder anymore if maybe one more phone call would make a difference. You can move on with your life with or without her because you'll know for sure that there is or isn't a chance of you two reconciling your differences," said Brittany, her head now resting on Santana's shoulder.

"I doubt she's going to have suddenly changed her mind about me over the last few years, Brittany," said Santana tonelessly. "Or us."

Brittany felt her shoulders slump. "You never know."

* * *

"_Miss Lopez," said Figgins, his eyebrows shooting up and down, wild and untamed. "What do you have to say for yourself…hmm?" _

_Santana simply scowled and stared defiantly forwards. This was so not fair. _

"_Santana," her step-father prompted angrily. "Answer the question." _

"_Oh please," snapped Santana in reply. "Like you're going to care what I have to say. I'm going to get pinned for this no matter what happens." _

"_That isn't true, Miss Lopez!" Figgins protested, his voice becoming higher in pitch. "But you broke a boy's nose! We need to get to bottom of this." _

"_Whatever," said Santana folding her arms. Beside her she could see the vein in Dr Lopez's temple beginning to throb. He was getting angry with her. Oh her 'dad's' temple, as he was for some reason now insisting she call him. Like that was going to happen anytime soon. "He fucking deserved it." _

"_Santana!" said Lopez angrily, slamming his hands down on Figgins' desk. Santana flinched and turned to look him warily. He must have seen something in her eyes because he suddenly deflated and took a deep calming breath. "Just tell us what happened." _

_Santana shrugged while no small amount of fear coursed through her body. "He started it," she said meekly. _

"_It isn't just the fighting," Figgins chimed in. "Your grades have been slipping for months. Are you having problems at home?" _

"_No," Santana muttered. _

"_Don't be ridiculous," said her step-father with a roll of his eyes. "Santana has everything she could possibly want at home." At this, Figgins looked at her curiously, almost knowingly, and she dropped her gaze to the desk. _

"_Okay, well I'm still going to need to hear your version of events," Figgins prompted once more. _

"_Look," said Santana, false bravado shining through. "The guy was making suggestive comments in my direction and I didn't like it. We started arguing and he shoved me first. Is it my fault he fell and hit his face on a bench? No. It's not my fault he's borderline retarded." _

"_Several witnesses say that he didn't push you first at all, Miss Lopez," said Figgins pointedly. _

_Santana scoffed. "Oh yeah. And who were those witnesses? Neanderthal jocks sticking up for their team mate? I swear if those tools spend anymore time together they're all gonna start getting their periods on the same day." _

"_Miss Lopez," Figgins said once again, he was starting to get really annoyed now. Before he could continue what would have been an undoubtedly fascinating rant, the office door swung open and Santana turned her head to see Sue Sylvester stride through, a face of fury. _

"_And what is the meaning of detaining one of my Cheerios during practice?" she demanded. Figgins looked suddenly frightened and her step-father merely looked confused. Santana felt her heart soar in relief. If anybody could get her out of this, it was Sue. _

"_Santana Lopez has committed an act of violence against another stu–" _

"_It was self-defence," said Sue immediately. "I saw the girl push her." _

"_Boy," Santana corrected under her breath. _

"_Sue…" said Figgins warningly. _

"_You calling me a liar, Figgy?" asked Sue, hands on hips and eyebrows raised in outrage. _

"_Well no…" _

"_Glad we got that cleared up," said Sue dismissively. She turned to Santana. "Well? What are you waiting for, J Lo? Get up off your fat ass and get to practice." _

_Santana leapt to her feet and pulled Dr Lopez with her. He cast one final glance back at the two teachers before allowing Santana to drag him from the room and down the first hallway. _

"_Who," said her step-father in bewilderment, "was that?" _

"_Sue Sylvester," said Santana, urging the man to move faster. She didn't want to be caught slacking or Sue might rethink her stance on defending her. "She's the Cheerios coach." _

_Daniel nodded. "She's um…an impressive woman." _

"_You could say that," replied Santana in agreement. She might be absolutely bat-shit crazy, but Santana couldn't deny that Sylvester was a force to be reckoned with. _

"_Santana," said Dr Lopez seriously, still allowing himself to be ushered towards the exit, "Did he really push you first?" _

_Santana stilled and looked up into her step-fathers inquisitive face. She held his gaze and slowly nodded her head. "Yeah," she lied. "Of course he did." _

_Lopez nodded his head and looked her up and down. "We're going to talk about your grades when you get home." _

"_Okay," said Santana, feeling a strange sense of relief._

* * *

"If you really want me to, I'll go," said Santana finally. "But know I'm only going for you."

Brittany allowed herself a small, victorious smile and lifted her head to kiss Santana on the cheek. At the last second, Santana turned her head so their lips met.

"Come on, Britt," said Santana in a pseudo-mocking tone. "I'm going to see my mom for you and all you're gonna give me is a measly peck on the cheek? I deserve way more than that." She waggled her eyebrows suggestively, but Brittany could tell her heart wasn't quite in it.

"Maybe later," Brittany replied in her most placating of tones. "When do you want to go?"

"Never isn't an option, right?" Santana asked. Brittany raised an eyebrow. "Yeah…didn't think so. As soon as possible then, I guess. Get it over with. Besides, I think it's a full moon in a few days. It's when she usually transforms so she can spend her nights preying on the weak. I should avoid those days."

Brittany sighed. "I wish you wouldn't say things like that. For the longest time I thought your mom really was the Wicked Witch of the West…It took my dad months to convince me that she couldn't be because she isn't green."

"You obviously never saw her in one of her face masks," said Santana, rather cryptically.

"Santana…"

"I already agreed, Brittany," she said suddenly. "You don't have to keep trying to convince me."

Brittany nodded. "Okay." Santana made a quiet noise of displeasure. "Thank you."

"Yeah yeah. Whatever," said Santana dismissively. "But I want the good lovin' tonight."

* * *

_Santana lay back in bed and stared furiously at her ceiling. Maybe if she glared hard enough she'd burn a hole in it and that would _really_ piss off her step-dad. Assuming he was ever home to see it that was. Well what the fuck ever. She didn't need them. She didn't even want them. So then…why did she feel so awful?_

_Well, she guessed there was a legitimate reason for her to be feeling bad. She had just been bailed out of _jail_ by her irate step-father. Except irate didn't quite cover the rage that seemed to have taken over the man's body as he'd yelled and screamed at Santana in the middle of the police station. It had been humiliating. And completely undeserved. Loads of teenagers stole stuff; it was practically a right of passage. She blinked back angry tears and pulled one of her pillows protectively against her chest. _

_She really hadn't thought the store would get the police involved. She thought they'd just call up her parents and make them pay for the stuff. It was only a few nail varnishes; what the hell was the big deal? She gave them back. There was no need for them to haul her down to the police station to 'make an example' of her or whatever the hell the shop dude had said. It just…really wasn't fair. Puck stole stuff without consequences all the time. She was pretty sure her father stole things all the time without consequences…the real one, that was. Not the pansy healer of the sick jackass downstairs who liked to pretend to be her father when the moment suited him. _

_She swallowed against another rise of tears and buried her face in her pillow. This was not how things were supposed to go. She was so fucking stupid. She should have known better. _

_The worst thing was that try as hard as she might, Santana couldn't scrub the look on her mom's face from her mind. _

_She wasn't angry. She wasn't annoyed. She didn't even seem disappointed. _

_She was just…resigned. Like she'd been expecting Santana to do something like this all along and if anything was just surprised it hadn't happened sooner. _Next time you do something like this, don't expect us to come and bail you out. _Next time. Like Santana hadn't learned her lesson. Like she was going to go out and mug somebody because it was in her blood or something. The words rattled around her brain and she pressed her hands against her ears. _You're a waste of space; just like your father.

_Before Santana could dwell too much on the implications of those last few words, there was sharp tapping noise at her window. She raised her head wearily and caught a glimpse of long, blonde hair bob into view before disappearing again. Unfortunately, Santana couldn't even find it in herself to smile when her friend finally reached the top of the tree outside her bedroom and easily slipped through the open window. _

"_Hey, Britts," she said with forced cheer, as Brittany straightened up and brushed imaginary dirt from her arms. Instead of returning the greeting, Brittany gazed at Santana impassively and folded her arms across her chest. Santana's smile faltered and she lay back down so she didn't have to look her friend in the eye. "You heard?" _

"_Everyone did," replied Brittany, her voice unlike Santana had ever heard it before. She sounded… aggravated. "Puck was in the store." Santana frowned; she hadn't seen him anywhere. "Yeah," said Brittany with a nod. "He came to tell me and Quinn what a hero you were for defying the law." _

"_Oh," said Santana unhappily. "And you–" _

"_What the hell were you thinking, Santana!" Brittany suddenly snapped. _

"_I just wanted some new nail–"_

"_It was irresponsible and…Santana, will you look at me when I'm talking to you!" said Brittany, stamping her foot petulantly. _

_Santana sighed and turned her head so she was facing her annoyed friend. She frowned. Brittany looked mad. But like…_really_ mad. Her cheeks were flushed pink and she was positively seething with rage. "Brittany–"_

"_No!" Brittany interrupted, waving her arms wildly. "I don't wanna hear it."_

_Something stirred in Santana's chest and she clenched her hands at her sides and dropped her gaze. _

"_What were you thinking?" said Brittany. Santana saw her feet move closer but dared not look_ _up just yet. She shrugged and fought against the stinging in her eyes. "Santana?" Brittany prompted, her voice lacking its usual warmth. "Talk to me." _

_Sniffing, Santana shook her head. "I just…" Her voice cracked. "I just wanted them to notice me more."_

_For a moment Brittany said nothing. "And you thought getting yourself caught stealing was the best way to do that?" she asked. "You were arrested!"_

_Santana squeezed her eyes shut, feeling both sick and utterly humiliated. "Nothing else fucking works," she muttered. She risked a fleeting look upwards but Brittany was staring blankly out the window. _

"_Santana," she said eventually._

"_I just thought that maybe they'd be so mad at me that they'd want to do something about it. Rehabilitate me or something. I didn't think they'd decide to wash their hands of me completely…" Santana trailed off quietly and closed her eyes. "I wish they cared; even it was just a little bit." _

_Brittany let out a long and audible sigh and Santana felt a dip in her bed. Before she could question it, Brittany's arms wormed their way around her torso and pulled her close. "I'm still really mad at you," Brittany told her, but her voice was gentle and understanding. "But you've had a bad day, so…" _

_A tearful little laugh clawed its way free of Santana's throat and she nodded her head against Brittany's shoulder. _

"_Are you okay?" asked Brittany softly. Santana nodded her head again and made a little noise of affirmation. "Do you wanna talk about it?" Santana buried her face in the crook of Brittany's neck and breathed in the scent of Brittany's perfume. _No. Really, really…not._ "Okay." Santana_ _could feel each rise and fall of her friend's chest. "You know you can talk to me though, right? If you want to." _

_Yeah, that was so never going to happen. Talking never helped anything. Santana raised her head to say just that, but before she could __Brittany__ turned towards her and the words jammed in her throat and a strange tension began to grow. Their noses almost touching, Santana gazed up into __Brittany__'s clear blue eyes and tried to ignore that feeling in her stomach that seemed to be appearing more and more when she was around her friend. Because that's what __Brittany__ was. _A friend_. Any…peculiar urges Santana might be feeling were to be pushed aside. _

_"Are you okay?" __Brittany__ asked again. Her voice was almost deathly quiet, as though she was worried something might break if she talked any louder. _

_Unable to respond, Santana inclined her head and __Brittany__ smiled uncertainly. Whatever it was Santana was feeling, she was sure __Brittany__ could feel it too. They stared at each other for an interminable amount of time, neither daring to look away. _

_Until __Brittany__ raised a tentative hand and ran a single finger along Santana's jaw line. Santana swallowed nervously but didn't move as __Brittany__'s hand wound its way around her neck and pulled her ever closer. She stopped when their lips were mere millimetres away from each other and for a moment nobody moved. They didn't even breathe. _

_Then something in the air snapped. _

_Santana pressed forward and their mouths met hesitantly. They kissed slowly and Santana couldn't help but admire the impossible softness of __Brittany__'s lips as she leant further forward. _

_It wasn't the first time they'd done this. It was, however, the first time they'd done it completely sober and not surrounded by a sizeable group of leering guys. Any thoughts about how wrong it might be completely flew out of Santana's mind though as __Brittany__'s tongue began pressing against the roof of her mouth. She groaned and felt __Brittany__ smile against her lips. _

_After a few minutes, their need for oxygen outweighed their need for each other and they reluctantly pulled away. Before Santana could say anything, __Brittany__ turned her whole body so they were facing each other. The tips of her ears had turned a dark shade of pink and Santana couldn't help the small, rather frightened smile that crossed her face because of it. It was almost enough to make her forget everything else that had happened that day._

* * *

**Author's Note(s):** Well. That was exhausting. I'm sorry for any mistakes, I haven't had time to read it all through properly and I'm going to a place with no internet (oh the horror) for a few days tomorrow and I wanted to get this up before I leave! Will edit next week if needs be.

Sorry again for the epically long wait. Love you all. Like…a lot.


	27. Chapter 27

**Disclaimer: **See Chapter 1.

**Author's Note(s): **Erm...hi there.

**Put On a Happy Face  
**_Chapter 27_

_13 Years Earlier _

_It wasn't the first time Santana had a nightmare and Brittany was almost a hundred percent certain that it wouldn't be the last. She didn't get them as frequently anymore for which Brittany was eternally grateful, but sometimes when Santana would go to school with barely concealed dark rings around her eyes, Brittany couldn't help but feel that she herself had something to do with keeping Santana's bad dreams at bay. They might happen more than Brittany thought they did. _

"_Santana," she whispered softly into the trembling girl's ear. "Wake up." _

_Santana whimpered and buried her face into Brittany's pale pink pillow. Brittany hated it when she did that; she couldn't help but worry Santana was going to suffocate. Brittany shuffled forwards and snaked her arms around a slim waist to pull her girlfriend backwards. _

"_Please wake up," Brittany repeated when Santana groaned and tried to squirm away. "Santana!" _

_In the darkness, Santana stiffened. "It's just me, honey," Brittany told her gently. "Your Brittany." _

_Without saying a word, Santana released her death grip on the bedcover and grabbed one of Brittany's hands instead. It hurt a little but Brittany held on tightly and placed a row of delicate kisses along Santana's shoulder. It took almost five minutes, but eventually Santana's body relaxed back into her own. Brittany let out a small breath she hadn't realised she was holding. _

_After a moment, Santana drew her knees up to her chest, trapping Brittany and her own hands between her thighs and her stomach. She cleared her throat and let out a breathy little whimper. "Thanks, Britt," she said so quietly that Brittany almost didn't hear her. "Sorry." _

"_You don't have to be sorry," Brittany whispered into dark hair. "It's not your fault." _

_Santana made a non-committal noise of agreement and shivered even though it was warm in the room. "I didn't mean to wake you," she replied. There were tears in her voice. _

"_I know," Brittany told her. Sometimes Brittany thought it would be better if she actually yelled at Santana when she woke her up in the middle of the night. When she was nice it just seemed to make Santana feel extra guilty and that wasn't what she wanted at all. _

_Rather than reply, Santana turned her face back into Brittany's pillow and sniffed loudly. Brittany was sure she was trying to hide the fact that she was crying. It probably wasn't very hygienic to cry into pillows and then sleep on them, but Brittany didn't really mind Santana-germs so she guessed it was okay. _

"_Hey," said Brittany softly, "please don't cry. You're okay. Everything is good now, remember?" _

"_I know, Britt-Britt," Santana replied into the cushion. "It's okay. I'm not…I'm not sad about now." _

_Brittany raised her eyebrows and forced herself to keep still. Santana never talked about her dreams. Not even a little bit. Except that time she had a nightmare about Lord Tubbington sitting on her face and woke up gasping for breath, but Brittany was only half convinced Santana was telling the truth about that one. From then on Santana had refused to sleep over at Brittany's house as long as Lord Tubbington was allowed in the room while they were in bed. It was very possible Santana was just getting tired of Tubbs staring at them when she was, quote unquote, 'trying to get her mack on'._

"_Brittany? Please stop holding your breath," came Santana's voice once more. Brittany's eyes widened and she let out a big puff of air with a quiet 'oops'. She hadn't even realised she was doing it. _

"_Sorry, Santana," Brittany replied dutifully. Her girlfriend chuckled weakly and squeezed her hand. "I'm glad you're not sad about now." _

_There was a small pause as Santana uncurled her body and rolled over as much as she could to look at Brittany. She had a strange look in her eyes and Brittany smiled nervously. "Did you think I was sad about now?" Santana asked after a moment. "Because I'm not. I'm so happy now that we're together. Happier than I've ever been before."_

"_I know you are, honey," said Brittany. She leaned forward and kissed Santana gently on the lips just because she could. "I love you." _

_Santana gave her a shaky, but contented smile at that. "I love you too," she replied, just above a whisper. Then she looked awkwardly away and Brittany frowned. _

"_Do you want to talk about it?" asked Brittany nervously after a few moments of silence. She knew she was playing a dangerous game with this question. _

_Santana hesitated. "Talk about what?" she responded, both knowing full well she knew exactly what Brittany meant._

"_About the things that make you sad," said Brittany. _

_A small sigh escaped Santana's lips and she shifted uncomfortably under Brittany's gaze. "No," said Santana softly. "I don't want to talk about it."_

"_Okay," Brittany replied instantly with a nod. _

"_But I think…" Santana trailed off and closed her eyes for a moment. "I think you have a right to know." _

_Brittany tried to stay cool, but she couldn't help her mouth from dropping open in surprise. That wasn't what she was expecting Santana to say at all. _

"_I mean…you're my best friend and my girlfriend–" Brittany's heart fluttered "–and I trust you so…" Santana was beginning to ramble now and she seemed to realise it because she stopped and took a deep breath. _

_Brittany offered Santana a comforting smile and rolled onto her back, opening her arms for Santana to move over and lie with her. Santana did as non-verbally instructed and shuffled forwards to rest her head on Brittany's chest. Brittany breathed in deeply and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl's shoulders, squeezing her tightly. She could feel Santana's heart beating in sync with her own. _

"_You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to," Brittany said after a while. Santana didn't seem to be making any effort to talk to her and if she was honest with herself, Brittany was a little scared about what her girlfriend was actually going to say. It must be pretty bad if she had nightmares about it, right? _

_When Santana made no reply, Brittany loosened her grip a little and raised a hand to stroke Santana's silky black hair. _

"_It's my dad," Santana whispered after a few more minutes of quiet. "Not Daniel. My real dad." _

_Brittany knew Santana didn't mean Dr Lopez when she said her 'dad', because no matter how many times he and Santana's mom encouraged Santana to call him 'dad', it never felt right. Santana hated it. _

"_He wasn't a very nice man," Santana continued in a feeble voice. Brittany frowned because she already knew that too. She only met Santana's dad a handful of times and from what she could remember he was super moody and never even bothered to learn Brittany's name even though she was his daughters bestest ever friend. "He drank…a lot." Now that, Brittany didn't know. "And it made him really angry like…all the time." _

"_I'm sorry, honey," Brittany mumbled. Santana said nothing but ran her thumb over Brittany's hipbone. _

"_He used to get so mad, Britt," said Santana softly. "So so mad. He used to…" Santana's hand curled around Brittany's waist as though she was trying to anchor herself. "He used to hit my mom." Brittany froze. "He only got violent when he was drunk but he was drunk all the time…My mum used to try and keep me from him when he was in one of his moods but sometimes it would just come out of nowhere…and…Brittany, stop holding your breath!" _

_Brittany almost choked and she let out a long blow of air. "I'm sorry, Santana," she whispered, and it was talking about more than holding her breath. "I'm so sorry." _

"_It was years ago," Santana muttered into Brittany's chest. "You have nothing to be sorry for." _

_Somehow, Brittany didn't feel like that was true. Heart in her throat, she leaned forward as best she could with her girlfriend's weight on her and kissed the top of Santana's head. She couldn't see her face, but Brittany could feel the tension in Santana's body and she just knew she was holding back tears. But then, so was Brittany. _

"_Is that what you were dreaming about?" She felt Santana nod her head ever so slightly. "Oh, Santana," said Brittany, a stray tear escaping. "I'm so sorry." _

"_You don't have to keep saying that," Santana replied tiredly. "You've done nothing wrong." _

"_Why didn't you tell me?" Brittany pressed unhappily. _

"_There was nothing you could have done, Britt-Britt," said Santana. "We were just kids. And I don't like talking about it…" _

_Brittany could understand that. Especially from Santana who up until recently thought that 'feelings' were something you could buy from a candy store. It didn't mean she had to like it though. _

"_San," began Brittany after a moment. A horrible thought had struck her. "Did he ever…um…" _

"_Did he ever hit me?" Santana finished off for her. Brittany held her breath but then remembered that she wasn't supposed to. "He tried to a few times," she admitted. Brittany's stomach plummeted. "But my mom was always there…and I guess he preferred bullying her to me." _

_Brittany swallowed against a lump in her throat as Santana began to tremble in her arms. She wasn't sure what she was expecting when Santana had agreed to open up to her, but it wasn't this. How hadn't she seen this coming? They'd been friends for about four years before Santana's father had left and she never noticed a thing. What kind of a person did that make her?_

"_I'm sorry, Britt," said Santana into the darkness. Brittany's eyebrows contracted. "I didn't mean to upset you." Her voice sounded croaky like it did after she'd smoked a whole load of cigars with Lord Tubbington. _

"_Please don't be sorry," Brittany begged as more tears slipped down her cheeks. "Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me." _

"_You make it easy," Santana murmured blindly in the darkness. _

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

_Present_

"You know, Britt," Santana began nervously, "I don't think this is such a good idea after all. Maybe we should just head back home and I'll take everyone out for lunch?"

A quick glance at Brittany told her that replacing a parental visit with lunch was most certainly not going to happen and Santana let out a deep sigh and went back to staring out the car window at the flawless row of houses before her. They'd been sat here for ten full minutes just down the road from her old home and Santana still hadn't worked up the courage to open the car door.

"We could just come back another day," she tentatively suggested. "My mom probably isn't even home now anyway. We could come back when your parents aren't out of town so they can baby-sit Callie. What if something happens and Christina doesn't know what to do?"

"Christina and Callie are fine," said Brittany calmly.

"But what if–"

"Santana," Brittany interrupted sharply making Santana flinch. "Honey," Brittany tried again, her voice softer this time. "If you really want to leave, we can. I'll drive you home and we never have to come back here again."

"Do you promise?" asked Santana hopefully.

"Of course I do," Brittany replied, sounding a little offended. "But you know…we came here for a reason and I don't think you're going to get this chance again."

Santana felt her shoulders slump and she turned to press her forehead against the window. _No me gusta_. From the driver's seat, Brittany reached over and linked their fingers together so Santana gripped her hand tightly and closed her eyes. The glare of the cold sun was far too bright for her tired gaze.

"Being back here makes me feel young and old all at the same time," Santana said softly. "It's like nothing has changed but I know it has. I'm pretty sure those tulips in Miss. Allen's front garden are the exact same ones we left Puck asleep in that one Valentines Day." Brittany snorted but there wasn't much humour behind it. "Drunken tool."

There was a small pause. "Just because the aesthetics of the street haven't changed, doesn't mean the people living in it haven't," said Brittany reasonably.

With a small smile, Santana glanced at Brittany. "You think?"

"Well yeah," replied Brittany. "Look over there." She pointed to the house next to Santana's and she craned her neck to see better. "All the police tape has totally gone now. There's probably someone even living there now. How long do you think murder puts people off from buying property?"

"I don't know. Ten years will probably do it though," said Santana with a sly grin. "I wonder what ever happened to all those Christmas decorations I stole from the attic..." she then added thoughtfully.

"They're probably still in school somewhere being haunted by old Maggie," said Brittany, frowning at the idea. "Hey…You don't think she was the ghost in our–"

"No, Brittany," Santana forestalled her. "Just…no. My old neighbour is not, and I repeat _not_, haunting the house we're staying in."

Brittany looked dubious and shrugged her shoulders. "I guess so. I doubt she'd have remembered what we looked like to follow us home anyway."

"My thoughts exactly," Santana lied with a nod.

A comfortable silence fell and Brittany began to stroke Santana's hand lightly with her thumb. As much as it pained her to admit it, Santana knew that no amount of sitting here with Brittany would prepare her more for the conversation she was about to have.

She gave Brittany's fingers one final squeeze before releasing her hand. "All right. I'll go." Brittany smiled back at her. "But you…you're not going to go too far are you?" Santana asked, trying to keep the worry from her voice. "If it doesn't go well you're going to be here?"

"I won't go far," Brittany agreed. Then she leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on Santana's lips. "I'll be here."

For a brief moment Santana debated making her promise again, but she instantly realised she was being stupid. Brittany wasn't going to leave her. So, with one final look back at her wife, she pushed open the car door and stepped out onto the almost painfully familiar street. Thinking on it, it was actually kind of eerie the way everything looked the same. Santana was pretty sure she'd seen a horror film that started this way…it was either about cannibals or some kind of cult…Whichever way, it wasn't good and from what she remembered it did not end well for any of the non-white characters. Although living out her very own horror movie might actually be preferable to paying a visit to the woman who spawned her.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and began the slow walk to her childhood home. Somewhere in the background she heard Brittany shift the car into gear and drive away. Between them they decided it was better if Santana didn't have an instant escape plan or she'd probably make a mad dash for the car before her mother had even said hello.

The house she was aiming for quickly loomed into sight and she unwillingly walked up the driveway. Was this really something she wanted to do? And more importantly, why was she so scared? Was there anything her mom could possibly say that would make things worse?

Santana swallowed against her dry throat and slowly raised her hand to knock once, twice on the mahogany door. Without realising what she was doing, she held her breath and hoped against hope that her mother wasn't home. Surely Brittany would just give her points for trying and then she could leave happy? Of course, luck was not on Santana's side, as often it was not.

The sound of a key being turned sank Santana's heart and she wiped her clammy palms on her jeans. The door was wrenched wide open and the woman behind it transformed from irritated to shocked in a second flat. Unprepared for the rush of emotion, Santana inhaled sharply and clenched her hands into fists. Her mother hadn't changed even a little bit. Her hair, which was tied into a loose bun at the base of her neck, didn't have a single grey strand marring it and her skin was still as smooth as it was over ten years ago when Santana left Ohio with the intention of never coming back.

"Santana," her mom breathed after a stunned silence.

"Nice to know you remember my name," Santana replied quietly. It was supposed to be accusatory but it just sounded sad. In favour of responding, Eva simply regarded Santana cautiously and leaned heavily against the door. "Aren't you going to invite me in?"

For a moment, Santana was convinced her mother was going to slam the door in her face, but instead she took a step back and gestured for Santana to enter. The back of her neck prickled as she stepped over the threshold and looked around at the well furnished hallway.

"What are you doing here?" Eva asked, closing the door with a resounding _click_.

"It's good to see you too, mom," Santana responded dryly. "I'm doing well, thanks for asking."

Her mother pulled a face and frown lines on her forehead became fully apparent; age had obviously caught up to Eva more than Santana had originally thought. "Is there something you need from me, Santana?" she asked, her eyes searching Santana's face for answers. "Is that why you're here?"

Santana felt sadness grip at her heart. "No," she said quietly. "I don't need anything from you."

"Then why are you here?"

"I just wanted to talk to you," replied Santana with a shrug. "I can leave if you don't want me here." And for a moment, Eva seemed to be weighing her options.

* * *

After pottering uncomfortably around the pristine kitchen for ten full minutes looking for snacks that Santana had said she didn't want and making two cups of coffee, Eva led her into the front sitting room. Like Santana had somehow forgotten her way around. They said nothing to each other while this was happening and when Santana finally took a seat opposite her on the coarse, floral couch Eva simply stared at her. Obviously her mother had no intention on making this any easier for her. Why break the habits of a lifetime?

Santana fiddled with the mug between her fingers and tried to push past her nervousness and think of something to say. She just wasn't quite sure what she wanted to get out of this visit, because Santana was under no illusion that her mother would renounce her ways and bestow her with the approval she so desperately craved through her entire childhood.

Much to Santana's surprise, her mother was the first to break the tense silence. "Why are you in Lima?" she asked tonelessly.

Santana licked her lips. "I'm here doing a favour for my old cheerleading coach working at McKinley in her place until she comes back from missions unknown."

"Teaching cheerleading?" Eva pressed, and Santana could sense just the slightest hint of disapproval behind her words.

"Yes. Teaching cheerleaders to cheer," she replied evenly. "What can I say? I'm just doing my bit for the community by perpetuating old stereotypes."

Her mother clearly did not appreciate her attempt at humour and merely pursed her lips. She was probably thinking about how Santana was corrupting today's youth with her dangerous messages of marriage equality, Santana thought bitterly.

"How are things at the hospital?" Santana finally asked. Might as well push the conversation forward so she can get out of there as soon as possible. It was obviously not going to go anywhere if she didn't steer it in the right direction. Frankly, Eva still looked surprised that Santana was even in the room.

"Fine," said her mother shortly. "I've been promoted to head nurse."

"Oh," said Santana. "Well that's good I guess…"

"It's more work but the pay is better," Eva told her.

Santana offered her a thin smile. "And that's what matters, right?"

Her mother said nothing but pursed her lips in disapproval of Santana's tone. It was a look Santana was intimately familiar with and she felt a small pang of regret. She didn't come here to antagonise her.

"Sorry," she muttered half-heartedly. Eva nodded and took a small sip of her coffee from her delicate floral cup. It actually looked like it had been bought to match the furniture in the room.

"So what do _you_ do for a living?" Eva asked after another moment of awkward silence.

"I'm a talent agent," Santana promptly replied. Then at her mother's quizzical look she added, "I work with actors mainly. We find roles for them in movies and TV." Overly simplified but it was as much detail as she knew her mother would actually want.

Eva made a quiet 'hmm'ing noise. It was obviously not the career she'd envisioned for her darling baby girl. "Does it pay well?"

Whilst heroically resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Santana nodded. "It didn't at first but I've been lucky."

"Well that's good, I suppose," came the unenthusiastic reply. Then almost unnoticeably, Eva's posture shifted entirely. "And how about everything else? Are you still with…" She trailed off uncomfortably.

"Brittany, mom. Her name is Brittany," Santana finished with rising irritation. "You _can_ say her name you know. She isn't Voldemort."

Eva shot her an angry look and she set her cup down on the small table beside her. "I know I can say her name, Santana. You don't have to rub it in my face. I'm trying to be civil here."

"_This_ is you trying to be civil? By refusing to say my _wife's_ name." She heard her own voice rise about an octave higher but made no attempt to rein herself in again.

"She's not your wife," said Eva with a tired sigh.

"She is!" Santana insisted, putting her own cup down on the table. "We got married in New York and there was a big white dress and rings and a church and a Minister and flowers that inexplicably cost more than two months rent and a bad DJ. It was a marriage in the eyes of God and the law. Brittany is my wife, for better for worse, in sickness and in health until death do us part." Santana took in a deep breath and tried to blink away the stinging in her eyes.

Rather than react with matching anger like Santana expected, her mother simply shook her head in disappointment. Like Santana was still some unruly child too young and too stupid to understand the consequences of her actions. As though at this point in her life, Santana was still too naïve to quite understand the way the world worked.

"All right then," Santana continued, "how about you explain to me what constitutes a marriage then? We'll base it on my glorious pre-teen years, shall we?" Santana knew full well she was going too far when she saw the anger flash in her mom's eyes, but now the rage train was heading forward at full speed now and there was no stopping it. "My father was a fine figure of a man after all. Is that the kind of person you'd rather see me with?"

"Sant–"

"Is it because Brittany doesn't smack me around? Is that why you don't think she's a suitable match for me? Or maybe it's because she doesn't drink her bodyweight in whisky that she's stolen from the local 7-Eleven? Or is it because she actually loves me? Which is it, mom, because you're really going to have to clue me in. Tell me why your choice of spouse was just so much better than mine!"

"Get out."

The words were cold and demanding, but Santana almost didn't hear them over her own laboured breathing. "You know what? I think that's a capital idea. I _knew_ it was a bad decision to come here!"

"Well what were you expecting, Santana?" her mother snapped, finally giving in to her own anger. "You show up on my doorstep with absolutely no warning and expect me to suddenly pander to your every whim."

"Fifteen years, a wedding and a four year old isn't a whim! And let's face it, if I'd 'warned' you I was coming we both know you'd have found some excuse not to be here," said Santana, rising to her feet. She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "So you know what? Screw you. I'm better than this."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," said Eva, disgust dripping from her voice. Santana involuntarily tensed. Even when it wasn't intentional, her mother _always_ seemed to know exactly what to say to drag Santana down to her lowest point. Maybe it was a skill all mothers had. Or maybe it was just reserved especially for her.

The thing was, even on her absolute worst days (the ones where she and Brittany fought or she'd had a really really bad day at work or somebody new had found out about her sexuality and reacted poorly, or that one memorable day when all three of those things had happened at once) she just couldn't ever imagine taking out her frustration on her own beautiful baby girl. How could anyone resent their own child so much? Even before Eva had found out about her and Brittany, she and Santana had never been close. It made no sense to Santana because since she'd been born, Santana's life's work had become purely about making sure Callie felt safe and loved. The idea of anybody hurting her physically or emotionally made Santana feel genuinely ill and filled her with a terror of the likes she'd never felt before.

"I will never understand why you came here in the first place," Eva continued, eyeing Santana with cold, dark eyes. Santana felt all the anger drain from her body, leaving her tired and numb. She folded her arms against her chest and her eyes dropped to the ground.

She shrugged her shoulders. "It's being in Lima...I've just been thinking about you a lot. I guess…I just wanted to know why you've always hated me so much."

"Hate? Let's not be dramatic, Santana," replied Eva dismissively. There was that tone again; the one that made her feel about three feet tall.

"You're supposed to be my mom," she said in a small voice. "We can argue semantics all day. The fact is, you don't like me and you never have. You're supposed to like…love me and protect me."

"How dare you say I haven't protected you!" Eva snapped, also standing so she and Santana were at eyelevel. "You have no idea what I did for you. The sacrifices I made to keep you safe."

"Yes I do!" Santana insisted. "I was a kid but I wasn't stupid. Do you honestly think I didn't know what he was doing to you? How much he was hurting you? He hurt me too, mom, in case you don't remember. You aren't his only victim."

Eva faltered and her eyes softened just a little. "I remember."

"Then why–" Santana's voice cracked and she sucked in a shaky breath. She decided to change tack. "Do you blame me?" Eva looked away and Santana gaped at her. "You blame _me_ for the way he treated you. I was a child!"

"No," said Eva sounding exasperated. "That's not why I–"

"Oh so you admit you've never loved me then?"

"Shut up and let me speak!" Santana clamped her mouth closed. This ought to be good. "Of course I don't blame you for the way your father…behaved, Santana. I'm sorry you think that."

"Oh well if you're _sorry_ I guess that makes it all okay," Santana said unhappily.

There was a pregnant pause and Santana clasped her hands together on her lap. She could feel her mother's eyes searching her face as though looking for something and she didn't like it at all. The physical twinges of pain in her chest where she knew her ribs were very slowly beginning to heal weren't exactly helping either. At least she assumed they were starting to heal. They probably weren't, knowing her luck. She hadn't exactly been following her doctor's orders much to Brittany's continuing irritation.

"You're just like him you know," Eva remarked after a minute. Santana felt her heart drop.

"Excuse me?" she said, more quietly than she'd have liked.

"You are your father's daughter," replied her mother grimly. "You may look like me, Santana, but you share _his_ personality."

Ice began to flow through her veins and she opened her mouth to reply. No words came out.

Eva sighed. "Stop looking at me like that. You must know that violent temper of yours didn't come from me."

"Violent temper," Santana repeated faintly.

"I just hope Brittany knows what she's let herself in for," Eva remarked. She didn't even sound like she was just saying these words to hurt her. She just sounded resigned. If anything, that was even worse.

"Oh my God…how could you even say that?" said Santana, utterly horrified. "I would _never_ hurt Brittany."

"You say that now," replied Eva knowingly. "Don't forget who got all those hysterical phone calls from your teachers, Santana. I can't even tell you how many times I heard the words, 'your daughter has attacked another student' from that useless headmaster."

"I was an angry teenager," Santana exclaimed.

"And you've grown into an angry adult," Eva immediately threw back.

Santana felt herself deflate. "No," she protested weakly. But she couldn't stop her mind from flashing images of her and Christina's father at parents evening. "You're wrong. I love Brittany and I love my daughter and I'd give my life to protect them."

Her mother rolled her eyes. "Always with the dramatics."

Something clicked in Santana's head. She wasn't quite sure what it was, but a sense of calm washed over her and she took a deep breath. "You can believe what you like, mom, but almost everything I did in high school was to get your attention. I was so desperate for you to swoop in and save me that I just lost track of myself. All I ever wanted was your approval."

"So you're saying that it was my fault?" came the unimpressed reply.

Santana thought about that for a moment. "Partially," she admitted after a moment. "You know, after dad left I was so happy. It was what I'd been waiting for my whole life. I thought that we could move somewhere new and start over; just you and me with nobody there to hurt you. Us. But that just…wasn't what happened. It was like you just stopped loving me and I never understood why." It was almost as though the words were saying themselves at this point. Santana was sure she'd never been this honest with anyone who wasn't Brittany in her life. It was liberating. "I just wanted you to love me like I loved you."

For the most part, Eva's expression remained stationary. There was a curious glint in her eye, however, and Santana took it as a good sign. At least her mom was thinking about what she'd said. "Why didn't you say anything then?" Eva asked after an unbearable amount of time passed them by.

"Because you never gave me the time of day," replied Santana incredulously. "You spent years ignoring me and absolutely nothing I did could change it. I had to be put in a medically induced coma in your place of work before you bothered to spend more than twenty minutes of your precious time with me. Maybe if I'd known all I'd have to do was get myself a near fatal injury for you to notice me I could have saved myself a lot of time."

Eva paled and sunk back down into the chair behind her. She covered her face with her hands and Santana could see her shoulders rising and falling with each controlled breath. Santana bit the inside of her cheek and sat back down again; all this arguing was exhausting.

When Eva finally spoke again, she said nothing like Santana was expecting. "Do you know," she began in a sad voice, "when you were six years old, your father lost his job for drinking. He was so _angry _that night and we were sat at the dinner table while he raved about injustice and how his lasagne was burned." Santana furrowed her brows and tried to remember. "He got up and threw the whole plate in the bin and pulled himself out a bottle of scotch I'd bought for over Christmas. I don't think you realised what you were doing, but you knew that when your dad drank he got mean. You were such a quiet kid but as soon as you saw what he was about to do, you jumped down from your chair and ran to pull a dog-eared picture you'd drawn in school out from your bag. You took it over to him and started yelling at the top of your voice about how you'd done it for him because he was such a 'great daddy'. I think you knew that shouting was the only way to get his attention."

"I don't remember that," Santana said thoughtfully.

"He just kind of…looked at you for a minute," Eva continued as though there had been no interruption. "Then he got up and mumbled something about going out and he left the house. When the door slammed you just sort of grinned at me like you knew you'd done something really clever and you told me that the lasagne wasn't burnt because if it was the colour would have been different.

"I think you were trying to protect me," said Eva, her voice breaking noticeably. "You were too young to really understand what was happening but you knew that when your father drank, he hurt me and you didn't want that to happen."

She fell silent and Santana raised an eyebrow. It was a nice story and all but she really wasn't sure what the point of it was. "Okay…" said Santana slowly.

"That child disappeared," Eva then told her wistfully. "She grew up too fast and started to…develop traits she…you learned from your father."

Tears filled Santana's eyes and she angrily tried to blink them away. She honestly couldn't believe her own mother had such a low opinion of her.

"Maybe I was wrong," said Eva, looking down at her clasped hands, "but I can't help how I feel."

Santana swallowed against her dry throat and closed her eyes. So that was it? All this time the reason her mother had never shown her affection was because Santana reminded her of her father? In all honestly, Santana was a little underwhelmed. "So that's it then," she finally said aloud. "You don't like me because of who my father is."

"When you put it like that it makes me sound like a monster," replied Eva disapprovingly. "You have to understand, Santana, it was a part of my life I desperately wanted to forget but whenever I look at you it's all I can think about. Maybe it was wrong of me."

Santana let out a small, bitter laugh. "Maybe," she said sarcastically.

"I can't help how I feel," said Eva. "Just like you." Santana blinked.

"Are you comparing my sexuality to the way you neglected me as a child?" She supposed she should be grateful that her mother no longer believed that she _chose_ to love women in a fit of rebellious pique.

Eva clicked her tongue in irritation. "I did not _neglect_ you. I gave you everything you ever wanted."

"Except a parent who loved me," Santana remarked unhappily. Eva's expression hardened but she said nothing.

* * *

Santana stepped out into the cold sunlight and let out a deep sigh of relief. The cloying atmosphere of Dr. Lopez's house had really started to get to her by the end of that conversation. Although she supposed the sickly feeling that had taken over her body had more to do with the words being thrown at her than the location.

She could still feel her mother's gaze burning into the back of her neck so after spotting Brittany's car just a few metres ahead of her, she turned back to Eva.

"I guess this is goodbye then," she said, and was surprised to find she didn't even feel very sad about it.

Before Eva could reply, there was a loud, childish screech that distracted both women from their awkward conversation. Santana spun around and let a small smile capture her face; she'd recognise that battle cry anywhere.

Sure enough, a blur of blonde hair and flailing limbs whizzed towards her, only slowing down to the point where Santana could still remain upright when the child barrelled into her and threw her short arms around Santana's legs. It felt like tension was pouring out of her and she let out a small, amused laugh.

"Hey, Mama," said Callie brightly. She then cast a guilty look back to the car where Brittany stood leaning against the bonnet with her arms folded. "Mommy told me to wait in the car…"

"Did she," replied Santana, laying a hand delicately on Callie's head.

The girl nodded furiously. "Yeah but I missed you so it's okay," Callie tells her seriously. "Right?"

Santana smiled. _Wrong_. "Right."

Behind her, Eva cleared her throat loudly and Callie released Santana's legs to peek behind them. Santana bit back a huff of irritation and returned her attention back to her mother. In the back of her mind, she dimly registered the thought of three generations of Lopez's being together for the first (and probably last) time.

"Who's that?" Callie asked curiously. She reached up and grasped Santana's hand in her own.

Santana thought for a moment before responding. If she told Callie the real answer then she'd only be bombarded with a million and two questions and requests for a full visit. "Nobody important, sweetie," she settled on saying.

The inquisitive look on the child's face didn't abate as she seemed to stare into Eva's eyes, but she nodded trustingly and Santana squeezed her fingers gently.

"This is your daughter?" asked Eva in a strange voice. Santana felt the overwhelming urge to protectively pull Callie away but she forced herself to stay still and nod. Impressively, she also refrained from adding a snide comment about ignored phone calls after the girl had been born. There was a small silence and Callie began to bounce up and down on the balls of her feet impatiently. "She's beautiful."

Santana's eyes widened and she searched her mother's face for insincerity. Finding none, she nodded her head mutely. Because…yeah…Callie was the best kid in existence.

"Can we go now, Mama?" asked Callie, interrupting the silence. "Mommy got me a dress-up thingy and I really want to play with it."

Santana swallowed. "Sure, sweetie. Go back to the car and I'll be there in a minute."

After a thoughtful look, Callie released her hand and held out her little finger. "Pinky promise?"

The hopeful little expression on her face almost brought tears to Santana's eyes, but she linked her own pinky with Callie's and smiled at her. "Pinky promise. I'll be right there."

Callie beamed. "Cool. Bye!" She directed the last part at Eva and then turned away to skip down the driveway and into her other mom's arms. Yet another awkward silence was left and Santana almost rolled her eyes at it. Seriously, if they'd spent more time actually talking and less time quietly twitching and eyeing each other across the room then she'd probably already be home by now.

"I'm leaving," Santana then said.

"All right," replied Eva. If Santana didn't know any better, she'd almost think her mother sounded just a little bit sad. "Goodbye, Santana."

And there is was again. That overwhelming feeling of wanting to cry but not being entirely sure why. Santana blinked rapidly and hung her head. "Goodbye, mom," she said quietly. She paused. "I'm sorry I couldn't be better for you."

She heard a mournful sigh as she turned around to leave her childhood home for the last time.

"I'm sorry too," came a reply.

Just for a moment, Santana froze. Then she took a deep breath and continued walking back to her new life.

* * *

**Author's Note(s): **Soooo...I hope you all managed to enjoy this chapter despite the disastrously long wait. Thank you so much for sticking with me this long 'cause I really don't deserve it!

In other thoughts, if in the future anybody wants to mither me about updating this fic I'm much more likely to see your messages on Tumblr because I don't log into this account very often. The URL is just cognitivism dot tumblr dot com.


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